


to the common tongue (of you loving me)

by HiddenEye



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1940’s Bucky Barnes, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Bearded Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America: The First Avenger Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nomad Steve Rogers, Omega Bucky Barnes, Time Travel, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 17:58:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 56,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19446670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: “I’m gonna ask you to leave,” Bucky began easily. “I don’t appreciate random Alphas breaking into my room uninvited.”Steve cocked an eyebrow, holding up his key that Bucky snapped his gaze towards it. “I didn’t break in, and you know damn well I’m not some random Alpha.”“Could’ve fooled me,” Bucky said, looking back at him. “What’re you supposed to be? Some imposter badly impersonating Steve Rogers? Because as far as I know, he didn’t have a beard and his Captain America suit doesn’t usually look like someone’s been walkin’ all over it.”





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> This was made for the NomadSteve_40sTwinkBucky collection. Doing this was fun as hell, because I’ve been wanting to write IW bearded Steve with 40’s Bucky ever since I saw a tweet of them together and it never left my mind until I made the outline for this fic.
> 
> So, instead of Steve going back in time during Endgame, it’s Steve going back in time during Infinity War. Unwillingly. Since the concept of time travel in Endgame was pretty much slapping sloppy facts, that I, too, did some sloppy fact slapping about time travel. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to make sense.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was waking up from one nightmare to another, at this point.

Steve lost track of how many times he had to avoid an avalanche of snapping jaws before he was vaulting away from spinning alien weapons. Spikes and the whorl of the machinery wheeled off behind him, the dirt impaled from where it passed. He only managed a glance at the thing, huge, dark and menacing, before he was venting off a snarling creature with slobber dripping from its maw.

It was using his new shield to heave it off his chest, the inches between his face and its teeth broaden before another two took its place. Hydra briefly flashed across his mind, of its history and its sprouting heads they loved to sing about, before he had to knee the creatures off just when they almost got his neck.

It was seeing the condition this once peaceful country used to be turned inside out, the ground unearthed and the people living in it swinging their weapons, and Steve knew they had to end this now. Vision was vulnerable, everyone was too busy taking down what obstacle that jumped in their path; it was only a matter of time before Thanos made his appearance, his lieutenants made sure it was going to happen.

Everyone was here. People he didn’t know, but who were obviously helping the rest of them take down Thanos’ army, helped. Thor fell from the skies with all the power crackling out of his hands and a new team on his side. Bruce and Rhodey shot from their palms and crashed forward what was near. Natasha, Wanda, Nakia, Okoye; an elite of forces, several feet away from where Steve himself stood. T’challa slashing down a couple of those monsters at one strike.

Bucky.

Bucky, with the lines of his face set into concentration, his lips pursed, his jaw locked. With a swarm of bullets, he was able to take down these creatures in their mid-jump to attack him, heavy bodies dropping by his feet as he focused on the rest coming his way. It was having Thor’s new companion by his side, a gun of his own, having his back.

Steve was able to catch him at the corner of his eye when he could, wanting Bucky to be in his line of sight no matter how far he was. At the very least, Steve was able to see him. At the very least, the worry in his chest was silenced for a while when they were too busy fighting off an alien army.

The few times Steve couldn’t see him, he made sure he moved until he did. The whip of his dark hair, the glint of his arm. That should be enough, that should assure Steve for the rest of the fight as he took down more and more than he ever did with Ultron’s army.

It was a never ending disaster.

“Cap, three coming in hot.”

The warning lasted half a second before Sam came diving in to fend off those creatures with a sweeping kick. And then, he was rising up to the skies, guns pulled out as he spun around in the air to face them again, shooting at their gaping mouths when they roared at him in fury.

Steve gave him a loose salute when they dropped dead. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Don’t mention it. But, I gotta be honest with you,” Sam took a moment to reload his gun before he shot thrice at another one coming their way, right at the centre of its forehead. “These things are not my favourite things to fight with. I was happy punching Nazis than I am with _this._ ”

Steve let out a breath of laughter, rolling his shoulder as he saw one of those creatures snapping its attention to him. “Yeah, well, we could always do that later.”

“After I take a nice long nap. Preferably for three days.”

“You guys planning a sleepover party without me?” Bucky’s voice came crackling through the earpiece, and Steve couldn’t stop the grin from growing as he grappled with the creatures neck, feet sliding across the ground as it tried to push back.

“You’re not invited,” Sam quipped, taking down two more coming his way. “Both of you. This is strictly a one-man sleepover party and I won’t have any of you waking me up for whatever.”

“Even if it includes ice cream?” Natasha joined in, and she waved from across the field when they looked up, her smile almost apparent from the distance.

“Now, that’s just dirty play and y’all know it,” Sam scoffed, landing beside him once Steve threw the dead alien to the side. “Bribing me with ice cream will _not_ help, I’m sayin’ this now.”

“Aw, that’s not what you said when we were in Venice.”

He paused. “Gelato is different.”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re easy with gelato,” Steve said, and Sam gave him a wounded look that made him chuckle. “You _are_.”

This was familiar. Having their hands and feet busy while they made easy conversation was something Steve liked to cherish nowadays as some nights became a little unbearable, or the days passed a little too fast, too soon that had Steve eyeing the time more than once in an hour. For the past couple of years since they were on the run, he had depended more on Sam and Natasha’s company, for their talks and banter to ease the vibration under his skin.

The video calls he had with Bucky helped too, when Steve was hundreds of miles away in some small motel room he shared with Sam and Natasha. Seeing his mate, healthy and smiling, put a glow in his chest that made Steve want to drop another visit to Wakanda every so often.

Time didn’t allow it, of course. As tempting as it was to envelop himself completely in Bucky’s warmth in his cozy hut, nose buried deep into his neck with shame dropped kicked out of the window, all while inhaling the sweet scent of _Bucky,_ Steve had more pressing matters to go through.

It was obliterating whatever Hydra factories they managed to find. Trying to avoid his and his friends faces being seen in public. Dodging government after government when there was a price in dark, bold letters perched on top of their heads.

Now that they were together with their fists flying, Steve felt the way something inside of him unfurled, where he was relieved to have the people he cared most near him again.

The fight went on and on until Steve found himself sprinting through the trees, the sound of Bruce’s shouts loud in his earpiece.

He was here. Thanos had arrived, walking in through the portal with the gauntlet on his hand and half of the stones gleaming quietly on his knuckles.

The sight of the Titan, standing in the middle of the clearing as if he knew he was bringing their world to its knees, as if the power of those stones would crush this universe with one snap of his fingers, was enough to make fury ring louder in Steve’s ears as he pumped his legs harder. It was the subdued way of how Thanos flexed his fingers, his eyes calm and almost unimpressed as he saw Steve coming towards him.

The first collide of his fist against Thanos’ palm had his eyeballs staggering in his skull.

Steve didn’t waste time before he landed another punch onto his solar plexus with his free hand, hard and solid, teeth gritted from how his bones shook from the impact, and he was swinging another under the Titan’s jaw before Thanos caught his fist, large purple hand crushing his.

Without another word, Thanos headbutt him until white blinded Steve, forehead exploded with pain, before Thanos hit him in the chest that Steve went flying to the other end of the forest, crashing through bushes before he slid through the ground.

He gasped, the hit of the punch a sharp thing in his chest as he tried to breathe, an experience similar to those days when his asthma and other major sickness were ridiculing him of the life he wanted. He hissed through his teeth, rapidly blinking away the black spots dancing in front of his eyes as he tried to sit up, the sound of his team striking down Thanos echoing through the forest.

Rubbing his chest, Steve scrambled up and pushed his way forward, seeing Thanos again as he easily threw Bruce away like a ragdoll.

This time, when Steve charged towards him again, it was using his shield to crash into Thanos until the Titan stumbled backwards. Steve took the split second opportunity to ram his shield under his jaw, snapping his head back with a crack that rang loud and clear, before he landed another punch onto his neck.

“Admirable resistance,” Thanos rumbled out just as he caught Steve’s fist again, looking down at him with something akin to amusement, mockery simmering underneath. The arm pushing against the shield only pressed harder, and Steve grunted when he was only pushed back, knees bent from the effort. “I can see why you’re willing to waste your energy like this.”

Steve felt his eyes widen when Thanos held up his hand, the one wearing the gauntlet, a bright green beginning to glow from the stone as he positioned his fingers together. “Think of this as a favour, Captain Rogers,” Thanos continued, resisting when Steve tried to break the hold between them. “You’ll thank me later.”

The streak of green light shot out and hit Steve square in the chest, throwing him off Thanos after the force of it caused him to fly through the air.

Someone might be screaming for his name, he didn’t see who was near him to know who it was, but the next thing he knew, he crashed into the ground again.

But, it wasn’t the grass like he would’ve expected. The ground was hard and cold, cobbled and a little damp as if it just rained recently when he knew Wakanda had been sunny and humid when he arrived. When he blinked away the residues of the green light, he found himself in darkness, opposite to the bright skies when clouds hovered near, nighttime apparent in the full moon glowing from where it stayed among the dark canvas of stars and galaxies.

He wasn’t in Wakanda anymore, sprawled beside the dumpster of this alley between these buildings, the effect of what magic Thanos used on him still humming above the skin of his nape as he tried to move.

Steve groaned, pushing himself off the ground until he stood, leaning against a brick wall with an arm wrapped around his torso, the end of the alley showing him to the quiet streets. Hardly anyone was walking around at this time, wherever he was at the moment — the chill of the place quickly seeped into his clothes that he knew he was in a different country.

He pursed his lips, straightening himself up to make his way towards the streets.

“Sam, do you copy?” He spoke into the earpiece, a little winded, fingers fumbling with the small gadget. “Bucky? Nat? Anyone?”

There was no response except from the static it gave out, droning on until Steve pulled it out of his ear and slipped it into his pants.

Steve pressed himself against the wall again, hiding in the shadows as he took a moment to take in his surroundings.

Only to find that the cars, instead of all the hybrids and sleek structures he was used to after waking up from his icy sleep, had shrunk back to its beetle sized vehicle almost eighty years back to the past.

People weren’t wearing what the 21st generation did, donned instead in the familiar long coats with big shoulder pads to the women who mostly wore skirts even if it was cold. The shops were different and yet, Steve had seen them before — it was when he first arrived here after being accepted into the project, the 1A still burned on his mind, the exhilaration of the serum still fresh in his blood.

The Big Ben chimed at the distance, loud and yet dulled from the fog hanging thinly above his head, and the sudden realisation of where Steve was crashed cold onto his shoulders.

A couple walked passed that Steve had to sink deeper into the shadows to prevent from being seen — it was a man wearing a soldier’s uniform and a lady holding onto his arm, the bright street light shining on them as they went.

“—a couple of years,” the woman was saying, a devious smile on her painted lips as she looked at the man. “It’s been fun.”

“So, you started painting since five years ago, and finally got to sell them three years later.” The man laughed. “I’m surprised they still accept those kind of things.”

“Yes, well, it _is_ 1943\. Everyone’s going with the flow now. Or again. Depends on how you see it.”

“I don’t think nudity is an _in_ thing so much that it’s been _the_ thing for hundreds of years, though—“

They trailed off, voices growing fainter as they walked away, leaving Steve to close his eyes as what the woman said blared repeatedly into his ear.

1943\. He was brought back to 1943 in London, back to the time when the war still went on and he had been called to work through the strategies of their ambush. It was getting back from Austria, getting back what was left of the 107th from their doom, and then forming a rag tag of a team to take down whatever Hydra facilities that were scattered around Europe.

That didn’t happen yet. Now, in 1943, they had just gone back to London to rest for a while, where Steve was still trying to convince the others to follow him to their deaths over and over again despite seeing the horrors Hydra was capable of. He remembered holding his breath about it, surrounded by rowdy and loud laughter after they skimmed above the barrier between life and one that could’ve led them to their ends, before it was agreed that, yes, they would follow him. They would follow Captain America.

Steve let his mouth formed a straight line.

1943, when the serum enhanced his ability to smell as much as he was able to hear; where colours made sense and he was able to breathe the air in a little better than he used to. The serum made his own scent a muskier version than before; it took up the whole room, it was heavy and overpowering, Alpha and _too much_ ; like a freshly baked loaf of bread that took up the whole bakery the moment the oven let out its sharp _ding!_

They pumped suppressants into his system after that. They had to, or he would be stinking up the place and everyone would be uncomfortable, making things much more harder to proceed with their plans when the map laid down on the table was their priority. He agreed of course — he wanted everyone on the same page. If his smell was gonna be the catalyst to chase everyone out, then there wouldn’t be any point for him to be in the room in the first place.

But, he remembered when he was running down the dark hallways in Austria, saw Zola making a run from the room he was in before Steve was chasing after him, until a wave of something achingly sweet swamped his nose and made him skid to a stop.

It made him swallow, hard, as this scent made him lose focus for a moment. It made him shake his head, straightened his shoulders, and he carefully walked his way into this room Zola had been in a hurry to get out.

The first thing he heard was the jumbled mumbling of a person from the middle of the room. When Steve stepped nearer, he almost fell over his own feet trying to hasten his steps when he saw Bucky strapped to the cot.

The scent was tenfold as strong the moment Steve stood beside where Bucky laid, almost as if a heavy canvas was dropped on top of his head, wrapping him up thoroughly in its touch.

 _Omega,_ was the first thing his mind supplied, watching how unfocused those eyes were as they gazed blankly back at Steve. _Omega_ , the voice repeated, insistent and urgent, when a small groan escaped from those plush lips of the man from the cot.

“Bucky,” Steve breathed out, and it was as if a truck hit him square in the face at how he was able to _taste_ it on his tongue. He swallowed his own hopeless groan, hands quivering as he snapped the bonds from Bucky’s wrists and body easily. “Bucky, it’s me.”

Steve remembered how he held Bucky to his side, the heat of his body a furnace by his waist; whatever it was that Zola gave him made his own scent as empowering as Steve did when he first stepped out of Erskine’s machine, because Bucky wasn’t like this before he left for war. Bucky wasn’t burning a hundred degrees even when he didn’t swallow any suppressants.

Steve remembered how it took all of his will power to just not shove his face into the expanse of Bucky’s skin and inhale the life out of him, just to get drunk on this new smell his new nose wanted to be in.

He was ashamed for the rest of the day, and it took some time, where he waited for Bucky to come out of the medical bay smelling back to normal, before Steve made himself be near him again. Before the future happened the way it did, he was more inclined to admit that had been his biggest downfall as a best friend.

Looking at the empty street now, some of the shop windows boarded up for the night, the thought of getting stuck to the past made his chest constrict. He needed to find a way to get back to the future, to where Thanos was tearing apart worlds just to let them settle into a position he thought would bring balance, because the population was a pest he’d rather squash under the toe end of his boot, not something he’d rather make peace with.

There were only a few people at this time who would know the ways of handling the future. Steve trusted them, had faith in them to know about this. While they would be alarmed at the notion of him coming from a time where everything was a hundred times faster in terms of technology, they would at least try to understand the whole situation.

He just needed to make sure he wouldn’t be spotted as he finds a way to see them.

To his luck, the London branch of the SSR was nearby where he was dropped, and Steve realised that getting there might be a problem if there would be guards taking watch. He looked down to himself, and hoped that the faded star on his chest was enough to convince them of his presence throughout his walk to the place. And that Peggy would be in her office like he suspected, since she had a tendency to work late into the night.

It was slipping past the overcrowded bar at the corner before he made it quick through the roads, silently praying no one decided to take notice of him as he walked down the pavement like any other civilian in the middle of the night. He turned around a street, and then the building came into view.

Like the one in Brooklyn, the facility looked like any other shop from the outside, the name of the bookstore shown on the windows in bold and capital letters. Miraculously, the shop wasn’t as dark as the others despite how the ‘CLOSE’ sign was facing out, a single light lit above the counter from where Steve was peering in through the transparent glass. He didn’t see anyone around. The shop was empty.

He took his chance and wrapped his fingers around the brass knob, twisting it open before it gave under his touch. He stepped inside quietly, the bell above his head welcoming him with its soft tinkle.

Immediately, a Beta woman appeared from the curtains of the back room. The small smile she wore dropped when she saw him advancing quickly to where she came from. “Captain—?“

“I need to see Agent Carter,” he said, stopping near the doorway, opting out the need to say the required password. “It’s an emergency.”

The levelled stare he got lasted for a couple of seconds too long, but she walked around the counter and pressed a button underneath it.

“Thank you,” Steve told her, pushing aside the curtains as the cackling sound of the doors opened. He stepped through until he found himself walking down these hallways again, bleak as it could ever be with its silver coloured walls, before he was turning right and taking the elevator that led down to the rooms and offices.

No one saw him, no one stopped him. It wasn’t long before Steve found himself stopping at a floor that showed him the long corridor with numerous doors on each side.

Stepping out, the slight sterile smell of floor wash was enough to hit him with memories of this time, of how he would walk through this place frequently every time he was to report to Philips or Peggy. Sometimes, he’d just wanted to see her, companion an easy thing between them as he asked for input on what required subject he had his mind on. Sometimes, it was about the deeper parts of the SSR, sometimes it was the government itself.

Standing in front of her office now, her name heavy on the door with light streaming through the slits of the closed shutters, Steve had to remind himself to unclench the tightness of his jaw when the adrenaline from his fight still held him hostage, before he lifted his fist and knocked on the smooth surface of the wood.

“Enter,” Peggy called out. It made the air sucked out of his lungs at how he was able to hear her voice again.

When he pushed the door open, the first thing he saw was the desk, files stacked neatly at one corner. The lamp was switched on, the yellow light shining bright onto the papers sprawled on the desk. It was having her favourite pen set beside them, the one with the golden streaks against the dark blue, its cap left open.

It was familiar. It made his throat constrict for a second before there was a loud click that echoed throughout the quiet room.

Steve looked up to a gun pointed to his chest. The look on Peggy’s face, young and beautiful with her big brown curls and bright red lipstick, was stony from where she stood near the cabinet drawers.

Steve didn’t blame her to act the way she did; his appearance wasn’t the best the past few months, and if he was going to compare to the time when everything was new, his uniform crisp and his hair kept, then it was going to be a problem.

He slowly held up his hands in surrender, eyes never leaving hers. “Peggy,” he began, his voice almost ringing in the death-quiet room. “It’s me.”

“Who’s me?” She countered calmly, nozzle still aimed steadily to his chest.

“Peggy,” he repeated, but he didn’t dare take a step forward, not when she wasn’t going to second guess on taking a shot. “It’s me. It’s Steve.”

“If you’re talking about Steve Rogers,” she told him, eyes ablaze. “Then, I’m sorry to disappoint you. The last time I saw him, he didn’t look like he was a running fugitive.” The accuracy of such statement punctured in between his eyes. “Nor does he look like anything like you. Who are you, and why are you in my office?”

“It’s Steve,” he tried again, taking a step forward. The unpleasant smell of an angry Alpha spiked up, causing Steve to stop from where his hands were still raised near his chest. “Peggy, it really is me.”

“You sound like him, have his posture, but you don’t look like him. The smell you carry with you is different,” she challenged, tightening her grip around her gun. “I’m going to ask you this one last time. Who _are_ you?”

“I look different from before, but my scent is still the same,” Steve latched onto that idea quickly, trying to console her with it. He waved a hand towards himself. “I’m still _me_.”

“The Steve Rogers I know doesn’t have a mate,” she snapped, already losing patience of having a stranger with his face in close range with her. “You do. Your scent is drowning in theirs.”

Of course. Taking Bucky when Steve had been on one of his trips to Wakanda had made them finally form the bond they had so desperately wanted since they were younger. To Steve, it was because of respect that he didn’t touch his best friend when they had been sharing an apartment. He wanted to, had been trying to withstand the need for a long time because they were best friends, and he thought Bucky wouldn’t feel the same way.

It didn’t help that Bucky was beautiful, it didn’t help Bucky _knew_ the effect he had on Steve but didn’t say anything about it. Bucky wanted it as much as he did, Steve found out later — but for probably the same reasons, they only stayed as friends and had help getting rid of their ruts and heats by other means.

Now that they were together, it should’ve been obvious to Steve that his scent was altered slightly to match with Bucky. He was, technically, a different person now, appearance included in the mix.

“I am.” He admitted. He slowly let his hands drop to his sides. “But, I’m still the same Steve Rogers.”

Her eyes flashed with annoyance, but she didn’t move a muscle as she remained standing there with the gun still aimed at his way.

“When we were in Italy,” she suddenly began. “When you were in a hurry to pack things up, what did I say after you found out Hydra had the soldiers from the 107th? Word for word.”

Steve took a breath, remembering the day clearly. They were alone then, no one else would’ve heard them have that conversation. “What do you plan to do? Walk to Austria?”

The air stilled between them, her gaze unrelentingly hard on his. “How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

“You don’t.” He stopped, running his hand through his hair. “But, I still need your help.”

The clock hanging above her door was too obvious, taking up the space in the confinement of her office that every tick, tick, tick bounced off the walls that it would’ve considered as _loud_. Steve only stood there and waited, unable to do anything else until Peggy gave some kind of indication where they, he hoped, wouldn’t end up fighting each other.

It was a second, and then two, before she lowered down her gun. He felt his chest loosen in relief. “Help in what?” She asked, and he realised she wasn’t going to let go of the gun anytime soon.

It didn’t matter. She was going to listen to him now.

“To get me back in my timeline,” he began, making her arch her eyebrows. “I’m not exactly from here, not in a way that you’d expect, and I won’t be able to get back to 2018 if I don’t get some help.”

She leaned against her drawers, crossing her arms while the lines on her face shifted into something unreadable. “2018.”

He held his stance. “Yeah.”

“You’re saying you’re from the future? Steve Rogers, Captain America,” she twisted her mouth unhappily. “ _Survived_ seventy-five years into the future without aging a single day? Is this what you’re trying to tell me?”

“I know it’s hard to believe all of this,” he began. “And whatever I’ll be saying next would make you think I need some help, but you have to trust me, Pegs. It’s— it’s more than whatever wonders the serum made me like this.” He swiped a hand down his chest, trying to make a point. “The future is so much more, sometimes even I have some trouble taking it all in. But you gotta believe me when I say I was thrown back in time here, in 1943, when I should be in 2018 fighting off one of the bad guys.”

“That doesn’t explain why you still look young,” she pointed out. “You have a new facial look, yes, but you still look pretty much the same. Did the serum have the side effects on you not being able to age properly too?”

Steve licked his lips, letting his look dropped to the papers in front of him instead.

Peggy, sharp as she was, noticed his diversion and straightened herself up, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What is it?”

“If I told you what happened that made me remained like this,” he lifted his gaze again, seeing the dark pool of her eyes. “You’d try to stop it.”

There was a pregnant pause. “I’m guessing I’ll be there when that happens.”

He nodded, and she let out a low breath as she tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. “Right,” she continued wryly, stepping forward until the desk was the only barrier between them. “If you’re here, then what happened to Steve Rogers of this timeline?”

He hadn’t thought of that. He had been so occupied with trying to get to Peggy, he hadn’t considered what happened to 1943 Steve Rogers. He winced. “I have no idea.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “What? So, there could be _two_ Steve Rogers here now?”

“Unless Thanos used the stone on him too when he tossed me here, then I’m assuming that’d be it.”

“How—“ she snapped her mouth closed, collecting herself in the way she pursed her lips tightly. “I need you to tell me everything that’s going to make me understand this,” she flipped a hand towards his way. “and hope I’ll be able to help you get back to the future. I expect details. Starting with how in the bloody hell did you get here in the first place.”

Steve watched the way she reached out for her pen, covering it up again with its cap. “We need Howard first.”

* * *

It turned out when Steve was dropped back in time, 1943 Steve Rogers was snapped out of existence too.

Peggy made calls for people to look for him, all while Steve himself stood at one corner of her office to look around at his surroundings, recognising things the way they were. It took them ten minutes, before Peggy told him that 1943 Steve Rogers was nowhere to be found, so it was safe to say that Steve wouldn’t bump into him and give younger Steve a heart attack at the sight of him.

They went to find Howard after that, making their way to the workshop where he liked to hole himself up whenever he got his hands on a project. It reminded Steve distinctively of Tony, but only in dedication and the manic energy that seemed to seize up the whole room whenever he was neck deep in his own thoughts.

Clutching onto his new shield, the sleek vibranium completely different than his old one, it made Steve thought of Wakanda and the disarray that he left behind him. Thanos’ army were relentless to go through the small doorway of the force field, and despite how more people came to help, they were still outnumbered, and the large weapons didn’t helped as they crushed everything in their paths.

It was his priority to get back as soon as he could. Taking down Thanos was another once he could get his hands around his throat.

“Who’s the lucky person?”

Steve blinked, before glancing at Peggy. “I’m sorry?”

“Your mate,” she clarified, the corner of her mouth curling up when he felt caught under her question. “You said you’re mated in the future, and I’m guessing you’re very happy with them.”

He cleared his throat quietly, trying not flush under the teasing look glimmering in her eyes. “I am. He’s… all I have, someone who’d make me feel _me_ without being under anyone else’s expectations.” He pushed his embarrassment away and looked at her square in the eye. “He’s a reminder why I’m grateful with the way I am.”

Something in her look softened under his confession. “He must be very special to you.”

He gave her a small smile. “I’d move the whole world for him.”

When they reached their destination, Peggy pushed the buttons to enter the code before the doors slid open, allowing them to see how numerous weaponry and other scraps of metal were laid down on tables. There were shotguns and rifles, pistols and grenades. Some things were unidentifiable, most of them half way done, but Steve could recognise a machine that looked like a bulkier version of a tracker, or a vest with wires sticking out of its pockets.

They passed all of that as they walked towards the back, where another room sat. A long window allowed them to see the man they were looking for sitting in front of an enclosed machine, goggles on his eyes as he focused on handling the device that contained a small amount of the Tesseract's power with mechanical clippers.

Peggy opened the door. “Stark.”

“This tiny thing would’ve blown the whole floor up,” Howard said in lieu of a greeting. “It almost blew me up. Something I have no interest in experiencing again when it destroyed my equipment.” He backed away, switching off the machine as he turned around to face them. “What can I help you with on this fine night, Agent?”

The moment Howard saw Steve, he stilled, wrenching the goggles to his forehead as he openly stared at him. “Jesus Christ. Since when did you decide to go bigfoot?”

The way his hair was sticking up was how Tony looked like when he stumbled into the kitchen of the Avengers Tower all those years ago, clearly spending the night away working instead of getting some sleep. Looking at Howard now, a replica of his son, the burnt of Tony’s anger from the Siberian Hydra facility wormed into his mind.

“Howard.” Steve greeted.

“Since when did you grow a _beard?_ ” Howard demanded, pushing himself up to a stand. “I saw you yesterday, and your face was as smooth as a baby's ass, Cap. This,” he waved his hand generally in Steve’s direction. “Is not that.”

Peggy was unimpressed. “Mr. Stark, are you done?”

“No, not until you tell me why Cap looks like he just wrestled with a bull for a month straight.”

“Time travel,” Steve said, causing Howard to swivel a look of disbelief at his way. “I need your help in making that happen again.”

“Time travel—“

“This Steve came from 2018,” Peggy cut in, but Howard was still squinting at Steve intently. “He’s not supposed to be here, Stark.”

“Yeah, I can _see_ that.”

“I need your ear on this,” Steve addressed Howard, who merely stared back at him with the same distrustful expression. “This won’t make sense in the beginning, but it’s worth listening to.”

“I’ll be the judge of that but,” Howard nodded. “I’m listening.”

When Steve told them what happened, what made him come back to 1943 while they were standing in the small room, a blanket of silence seemed to settle above their heads as both Peggy and Howard processed what he said. By then, Howard had sank back to his stool, while Peggy was leaning against the glass window with her arms folded across her chest.

It would’ve been hard to believe what he was saying. The time travelling. The aliens. How he was still alive so many years than where they were. But Steve waited, shoulders tensed as he stood rigidly between the both of them.

“The future,” Howard finally let out, raising his head to meet his eye. “You stepped out of, what, a time machine? And suddenly you’re standing here, when you should be in 2018?”

“I was hit with a,” Steve stopped, before quickly continuing. “With a device that could move time, but it wasn’t a time machine.”

“A device that could move time.” Howard parroted flatly. He let out a small huff of breathless laughter, turning towards Peggy. “Are you honestly believing this? Just because he looks like a rugged version of our star spangled celebrity?”

“He’s Steve, Stark,” Peggy said. “But, not our Steve. His scent would’ve confirmed it for you.”

“I don’t go around and sniff on other Alphas, Carter,” he retorted, pushing the goggles off his forehead altogether before tossing it on the nearby table. “Even when they’re running out of blockage soon. Don’t forget to go to the clinic for a jab, Cap, or they won’t let you in on the lines anymore.”

Howard turned away from them, trying to make himself busy with all the reports scattered across the surface of the table.

“I won’t be able to go back, Howard,” Steve said. “Unless you help me. I can’t let good people die when I’m stuck here.”

When Howard turned around to look at him again while clutching onto a heap of papers, Steve saw how he was struggling to believe him, the frown severe on his brow.

Peggy already accepted this when they were at her office, and the encouraging nod she gave him when Steve caught her eye was enough for the anxiety in his chest to subside slightly.

Howard sighed, pulling their attention to him by slamming back the papers on one corner of the table. “You’re insane.”

He sized Steve up then, hands on his hips, almost challenging him in a way that had Steve standing his ground, meeting the other Alpha’s scrutinisation head on. Howard probably found whatever it was he was looking for because he shook his head, a humourless smile on his lips. “You’re asking me to build a time machine.”

“Yes,” Steve answered, feeling himself relax when Howard wasn’t pushing him away. “If it’s possible for you—“

Howard let out a snort. “Yeah, I’ll make it possible. I made cars hover at least ten inches above the ground, which is more than anyone else tried. What’s a time machine, right?” He shook his head in disbelief, before adding, “I might need some help from someone else too, a whole damn team if I’m honest.” Howard raised his eyebrows. “I’m guessing you’d want to keep this hush-hush.”

It wasn’t a question. “That’s the best way,” Steve agreed.

“I still need a team,” Howard told him. “Can’t do this thing all by my damn self, when you’re in such a hurry to get back to your time. You’d trust me to keep them quiet too, Cap?”

Steve nodded, the moment surreal now that the beginning of the plan was happening. “I do.”

“We still don’t know what happened to this timeline’s Steve Rogers,” Peggy reminded them. “At this point, I’m considering him as AWOL, but you’d have to fill in his position.” She turned to Steve at this. “Captain America can’t be missing now that everyone knows he’s the face of this organisation. Morale would drop, and the enemy would have a field trip skipping past our defenses with twice the power, fueled by the fact that America’s greatest hope is gone.”

The ambush he led to all those Hydra bases seemed so far away now, after everything Steve went through in the 21st century. Especially when Thanos was in the process of trying to eliminate half of Earth’s population, swatting away everyone who dared tried to stop him.

But, Steve was here now, in 1943 again. He was going to do right like he did before, doing his best to lead the army the way they hoped he would after everything they saw at Austria. Perhaps, he’d be able to find a better way around the hard conditions that had almost killed his men, ones that made Steve realised he should’ve done so-and-so instead. He’d be able to reduce the casualties, and his team wouldn’t bring home new scars to look at later.

“Understood.” He couldn’t afford to sit back and do nothing after all, couldn’t afford to watch his old friends do the work for him while he’d only be hovering over Howard if he didn’t take part in it again.

Peggy offered him a smile. “Thank you.”

They left the workshop, with Howard already distracted by his plans as he walked off to who knows where, while both Steve and Peggy rode the lift to her office.

“I suggest you take the room of the inn he’d be staying,” Peggy said, stepping out once they arrived at her floor. “It’s a couple of blocks away from here, the same place where all the other soldiers are staying too.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” They had been awake for most of the night, and his body was starting to realise there was no fight going on around him anymore. The exhaustion from the battle was starting to drag on his shoulders.

Peggy had her palm pressed against the door to prevent it from being closed, watching him intently. “Are you going to be alright?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Steve assured her, allowing a smile to take place at her concerned look. “I’ll be fine, Pegs. You shouldn’t push yourself so much too.”

“I wasn’t in the middle of fighting homicidal Titans when I came here,” she reminded him primly, where he only shrugged lightly. “Get some rest, Steve. We’ll work this out tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” he said, meaning it fully, and Peggy stepped back to let the doors shut closed between them.

Once he stepped out into the road, Steve took a deep breath of the chilly air, his nose stinging from the gesture, before he exhaled carefully through his mouth.

He made his feet walked towards the inn, going through the front doors before walking straight to the counter. The clerk behind it raised her head at the sound of the bell ringing above the doors, her eyes widening in surprise when he stopped in front of her.

“I lost the key to my room,” Steve began, trying to sound apologetic as he reached back to rub his nape with a hand. “It was number sixteen, I think? I was hoping you’d have an extra key?”

The clerk blinked once, before she straightened the front of her blouse by tugging the ends. “We do, actually. Here,”

She turned around and plucked the remaining key from its pigeonhole, sliding it across the counter towards him. “It’s the only one left. I hope you’re able to return this, at least.”

Steve took it off her hands, glad that he was able to remember what the room number was. “Thank you, ma’am. And I will.”

He climbed up the stairs, and made a beeline towards the door before unlocking it swiftly. Swinging it open, he found himself alone, the curtains drawn and the lights switched off.

Flicking them on, he was able to see how the room had recently been used with how a towel was thrown on the back of the small chair, a folded newspaper thrown carelessly onto the small desk. There were two twin beds with a single blanket each, a small cabinet and a lamp between them.

That was right. He was sharing the room.

Steve made his way to the bed near the window, sitting on the edge as a sigh broke past his lips. He ran his fingers through his hair, before dragging them down the side of the face as he let his elbows dig onto his knees.

He hoped that what they were doing would work. The safety of the planet depended on those who were willing to help, and he refused to be cast aside. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he wasn’t able to get rid of this danger; he had to go home, he had to go home and end it before it was too late.

Steve shot up his head when the doorknob rattled, feeling his body tensed at the sudden intrusion before he got a better hold of himself. He only managed to stand up before the door swung open, and Bucky stumbled in with none of the grace he’d usually carry himself with.

Steve felt his breath robbed at the sight of this man, with his mop of dark hair falling into his face, sniffing slightly from the slight dust coating the carpet that Bucky pinched his nose briefly with his fingers. It was watching the way Bucky looked up, and froze near the doorway with a wide look the moment he saw Steve.

There was no subtlety when Steve drank him in with all the desperation any mortal would’ve done when the Gods gave them nectar in a golden goblet. It was relishing, cooling down the restlessness that had been pacing underneath his sternum, and Steve took and took until there was nothing left but the bottom of the cup.

He never realised how strung he was until Bucky stepped into the room, his presence in itself was enough to be the mediator for the pacing Alpha in Steve to calm down, to croon out for the Omega that he had been calling his for months. His instincts urged him to step forward and pull Bucky into his arms, to take comfort on his smell, his touch; it was to run a palm down the curve of his spine and make himself at home.

It wasn’t possible, not here, not now, not when Bucky in this timeline wasn’t his mate. It took Steve all of his will power to hold onto his leash, the needy whine in his mind wanting to take a large inhale of what he knew would be Bucky’s wonderful scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar despite the situation they were currently in.

Bucky wasn’t his, though. At least, at this moment, not yet.

“Bucky,” Steve rumbled out quietly.

The way Bucky swallowed thickly was enough to stroke the embers inside Steve as he stayed put.

There was an odd smell coming off Bucky that Steve wasn’t able to put a finger on. Given the number of distance they stood, it was enough for him to realise that it coated over Bucky’s own scent like oil, and Steve took a discrete sniff.

The sharp but slightly muted tang of another Alpha’s scent pricked his nose. It took Steve to mentally count to three to not growl.

Steve tightened his jaw. Bucky used to do this, back when they were too stupid to actually confront each other about their own feelings. Before the war, he’d come back from work smelling of another scent, and Steve learned back then not to ask questions despite the way his stomach rolled with irritation.

Steve had seen it happening up close before after all; how those stormy eyes would glint the moment those fools got hooked on his bait, his smile feral underneath the playful twist of his lips as Bucky sauntered to his victim.

At that time, Bucky wasn’t afraid to use his charm, teasing all those Alphas with his bared neck and his exposed collarbones. He liked the attention Steve wasn’t able to give, at how he had the power to control those Alphas the moment they had their hands on him.

“They can’t bond with me,” Bucky had once said with a shrug. “I won’t let ‘em. And they know what will happen if they tried.”

Steve didn’t like it then, he didn’t like it now. But, again, he didn’t have an opinion on this when he was only a visitor to this timeline. As far as everyone was concerned, Bucky could do whatever the hell he wanted.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Bucky leaned casually against the doorframe, but his eyes narrowed on Steve. “I’m gonna ask you to leave,” Bucky began easily. “I don’t appreciate random Alphas breaking into my room uninvited.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow, holding up his key that Bucky snapped his gaze to it. “I didn’t break in, and you know damn well I’m not some random Alpha.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Bucky said, looking back at him. “What’re you supposed to be? Some imposter badly impersonating Steve Rogers? Because as far as I know, he didn’t have a beard and his Captain America suit doesn’t usually look like someone’s been walkin’ all over it.”

“Maybe I didn’t have the time to clean myself up,” Steve mused, walking towards the bedside cabinet and putting the keys down. He met his look again. “But, Buck. Y’know it’s me.”

“And how in the hell would you know that, huh?”

Steve took him in, properly this time, and saw the tired circles weighing heavily underneath his eyes. The need to pull Bucky into his arms was still there. “With how you’d always put a little too much garlic in your mashed potatoes whenever you cooked,” he said instead, watching the way Bucky straightened up. “Or how we’d take up my bed with both of us having this god awful hangover after a night out. You’d always complain how cold my feet would get.” He paused. “I still smell the same, if that’s going to help.”

For a moment, Bucky didn’t make himself reply as he pursed his lips, assessing everything Steve told him with what moments they once shared together then, when they were still living in that same shoebox of an apartment. Now, as they stood in the cramped place of the room, Steve realised they were going to share their space with each other again.

Bucky stepped forward, the door closing behind him that Steve only stayed still, allowing Bucky to walk up to his personal space. It was having his nose hover near his jaw, and Steve felt his heart threatening to burst out of his chest at how close Bucky was, at how he really wanted to touch him.

When they were younger, they used to scent each other in order to soothe the other down. Be it from loud storms or rattling coughs, it was their form of comfort. They stopped once they were old enough to realise that wasn’t something friends just do, especially when it was between an Alpha and Omega.

Bucky took a sniff, and reeled back as if he was burned. His jaw worked while he took a step back, widening the space between them. It was as if Steve had rolled himself in something excruciating foul from how Bucky was reacting.

Steve knew then he might’ve smelled his own scent on him, only Bucky didn’t know that was him, and instead identified it as another Omega Steve had taken as his mate. As much as Steve wanted to assure him there was no one else but Bucky, he knew he wasn’t able to do that without revealing his future.

“You’ve been fucking around again, haven’t you?” Steve asked conversationally, and Bucky got rid of his obvious distaste with a light jump of his shoulders.

“About damn time, after everything that happened this past few months.” Bucky let out a bark of laughter at the disapproval in Steve’s frown. “Aw, Stevie, don’t tell me it’s bothering you now?”

When Steve didn’t answer, Bucky snorted, turning towards the other bed. “Do I even want to know?”

“You seem pretty desperate,” Steve answered dryly.

He looked away when Bucky peeled off his shirt, and instead focused on his fingerless gloves, chaffed and worn around the palms that there will be a time when he would need a new pair.

“I didn’t even know you could grow a beard,” Bucky said, changing into a new shirt. He chucked the dirty one at the chair, where it landed on his towel. “You couldn’t even grow a mustache before.” Bucky dropped himself on the edge of his bed, watching him like a hawk. “What the hell happened, Steve?”

“It’d be hard to believe,” Steve warned him, sitting on his own bed as he faced him.

When Bucky smiled, it didn’t reached his eyes. “Try me.”

It took a while to go through the details again, and by then, the sun was beginning to rise as dawn crept on their backs. Bucky remained still on his bed throughout the whole time, as if he was on top of some tower with a sniper in his hands as he waited for a target.

“That’s fuckin’ nuts.” Bucky said bluntly. Steve couldn’t help but smirk in response. “But, when you look like _that_ , serum and beard and all, I guess there’s a chance it could be true.”

“Peggy said the same thing.”

That caused Bucky to pause; it was a second long, maybe shorter, but Steve saw it nonetheless before Bucky stood up and went to pluck his towel from the chair, letting his dirty shirt drop to the floor. “‘Course she would.” He swung the towel on his shoulder as he faced Steve again. “Any chance you’d know where the other Steve might’ve gone?”

“As far as we can tell, he’s AWOL,” Steve told him. “Until he comes back, I’ll be taking his place.”

Bucky didn’t reply to that, giving him another look that seemed far too empty than Steve would like to admit before Bucky made his way towards the bathroom, locking the door behind him. The shower started running a minute later.

Steve let him be, giving Bucky the space he needed. He deserved that at least, after Steve unloaded everything unto him in one night.

He rubbed his eyelids with his thumb, and dropped back on his bed to get some sleep.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who’s next?”
> 
> Steve wasn’t blind to how his charming antics had men wrapped around his pinky, who eyed Bucky as he stood there, chest and arms and neck bared, as if he _wanted_ everyone to trip over their own damn tongue as they openly ogled him from head to toe.
> 
> Something big and green reared its ugly head as Steve watched it all happening in front of him. If Natasha could see his face now, she’d probably support him by egging him on, knowing he’d just want an excuse to stand up and step forward like he wanted to.
> 
> He _really_ wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is folks, the next chapter. To be honest, I was hoping to get this out like, _way_ earlier because I’ve had the outline written down, but life’s been pretty hectic.
> 
> Also, I really love how they made Bucky a boxer in the comics, and how he’ll be the one to teach Steve how throw some punches because the _least_ he could do is to make sure Steve was able to defend himself if he wasn’t going to listen to Bucky in _not_ getting himself into fights. So, I put in that little detail in this fic.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Steve stepped foot into the pub, the sudden silence that followed distinctly reminded him of the time Peggy wore that red dress in the presence full of men.

She was Agent Carter. The name itself carried power, since she had done everything that made the SSR run as smoothly as it was, with numerous people listening to her whenever she had orders that were saving their lives. She was also beautiful, an Alpha many have respected, and that was already enough to make people’s heads turn whenever she passed by.

When she walked in the pub all those years ago, back when Steve was actually living in 1943 instead using the year as a pitstop to get to Thanos, the music gradually ended the same way the remaining grains of the hourglass dropped to the bottom.

When Steve walked through that door, it was as if a knife slashed the cords of the music and people were frozen on the spot. It was abrupt, and it caught everyone’s attention when the only next possible thing they could do was to swivel their heads towards the direction of the door.

Maybe, he should have changed out of the uniform and stick to the army clothes.

Steve locked his jaw, ignoring those eyes as he made his way deeper into the pub to look for Bucky.

Bucky gave an amused look over his shoulder as Steve sat down beside him, the bartender snapping into action by turning around and served him a glass of brandy. “Quite a show back there,” Bucky began, tearing his gaze away from the crowd, who came alive with a shudder but didn’t quite have their sights away from them, from Steve. The band started playing again. “I always knew you had that kind of effect on people, though.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Steve nodded his thanks at the bartender when he wrapped his fingers around the glass. “They’re just surprised.”

“Yeah, ‘cause five days ago, you weren’t scruffy lookin’ when you pulled each and every one of us out of that hell. And you didn’t have a goddamn shield that looked like it could poke out someone’s liver.” 

Bucky smiled that fake smile Steve hadn’t really liked. He hadn’t noticed it before, but Bucky did that a lot now, and Steve realised 1943 Steve Rogers wouldn’t have known about it because he had been too much of a trigger happy idiot at the time; pouring over maps and going through every single route he could find without endangering the men, making sure he didn’t miss what was important for their mission.

Sure, he and Bucky fell into place easily once they managed to hang out with each other, but Steve realised he never noticed the way Bucky’s eyes seemed to wonder too much, as if he was seeing things at the corner of his eye and wanted to catch it before it was gone.

It was probably because Steve had seen that look too many times when Bucky had been healing from what torture Hydra did on him, refusing to make eye contact at first as he made himself busy with the knife he had in his hand after escaping Berlin with Steve and Sam.

Right now, surrounded by the yellow lights of the bar with catchy music floating above their heads, Bucky was better at hiding it, easily fooling everyone around him if they didn’t know what to look at.

Steve turned to the side so that he was bodily facing Bucky, hand still holding onto his glass as he lowered his voice to say, “That shield is from where I came from. In this time, Howard made a bunch of advanced ones, but I took one that had less complications in wielding it. The one I’m supposed to use now —or later— is something you’d find in a medieval history book, only it’s made out of Vibranium metal.” He grinned. “You could play frisbee with that thing.”

“You’re inviting me to play frisbee with you, Rogers?” Bucky asked with a grin, a glint of teeth showing. “Like when we were kids and you’d fall down and scrape your knees trynna catch it?”

“Maybe we’ll hit people with it along the way, but that’s the idea.”

Like hot coal, his expression dropped, and Bucky stared into his glass. “You asked them already?”

“Soon,” Steve said, eyes flickering towards the not-yet Howling Commandos, who occupied one corner of the pub as they laughed and talked with themselves, empty pints crowding their small table. “Think they’ll accept?”

Steve already knew the answer, and Bucky shared the same sentiment when he laughed shortly into the confines of his own glass, taking a huge gulp until there wasn’t a drop of brandy left. “They’re stupid enough to do it too, pal. They’ll follow you.”

“How’d you know that, Buck?” Steve let his eyes linger on the strand of dark hair that kept falling to the middle of his forehead, fingers itching to brush it off. Bucky raised his empty glass for a refill.

“Because I know you.” He said easily, as if it was, in fact, that easy.

When Steve stood in front of the men, the first thing he noticed about them was how they were quietly apprehensive of his new look, of _him_. But as they all clustered around him in a semicircle, backs straightened and attention solely on Steve alone, it came to him then that they were still willing to follow his orders.

People were extra careful during these times — an instantaneous change might set off some warning bells and make them drop to the ground before rolling over. But, Steve was also Captain America, the same person who just saved them from being used as lab rats in Azzano. They probably thought if the army was okay with his new look, albeit his suit looked like it had seen better days, then they shouldn’t worry about anything at all.

There had been questions. Of course there had been, only Steve merely passed by them without looking back as the whispers that travelled between tents reached his ears. So it seemed, it was almost hard to believe this man who looked nothing like the Captain America they saw when he marched back into camp with a hundred more men, who tried to take down Schmidt with brute strength alone. Or when he saved Sergeant Barnes from the room that kept him locked up for weeks. Or even when he was still on stage with more than a gal or two behind him. _What happened to him? That really Capn’ America?_

Steve mostly allowed himself to nod politely whenever they said their hellos. Almost eighty years ago, the first time he stood in front of them all to give his first orders as captain, he had been nervous, his bones wanting to vibrate out of his flesh. But now, as the newly created Howling Commandos and several other people put their lives on the line again for him, it left him nothing but the heavy feeling of knowing what would happen next sitting on the bottom of his stomach like a boulder.

This time, it wasn’t just the Howlies who were going to take down the Hydra facilities; fifteen other soldiers followed them, all of them chosen by Peggy herself from the best of the best.

Colonel Phillips had taken one look at him and raised an eyebrow so delicately from where he was seated at his desk that Steve had to prevent the twitch of his mouth from growing into a full fledged smile. Peggy didn’t bother hiding it, causing Phillips to snap his look at her that she only began talking about the proposition of having secret raids around Europe.

They followed the plan. It worked at the first facility, before the second one proved to be a little tricky when Hydra was able to find out what was wrong earlier than usual. Steve led his team into the battlefield, teeth bared, the crunch of his hits a sickening echo in his ears when his knuckles met their bones. The Tesseract-powered guns would be ripped out of their hands and were used on the Hydra when necessary.

He had forgotten how damn good it was fighting like this; the raw feeling of adrenaline pumped through his blood at the hit of flesh meeting flesh, the harsh cold air stung his nose. The forest wasn’t the city — there weren’t any innocent people caught up in the fray, and Steve didn’t have to worry about the overwhelming guilt of unable to save the ones he couldn’t when crushing the helmets off these snakes was much more satisfying.

Sam was right; punching Nazis was fun compared to ugly alien monsters who would try to bite their heads clean off their shoulders.

And with Bucky by his side, things got a little more enjoyable before Steve decided it was not.

Bucky was there, watching his six with a thin press of his lips and his hands wrapped around his sniper, taking out anyone who wore the red emblem without a second thought. It was having Bucky grabbing Steve out of last minute messes a second before he realised what had happened, or tackling him out of the way when enemy tanks rained shots on them like some goddamn farmer watering his plants.

It made Bucky touch him. The press of his palm was warm when Bucky yanked Steve out of the way, as if he never really did recover the excessive body temperature from the facility. And it seared through the layers of his suit that Steve was sure if those hands touched the exposed skin of his neck, he’d dropped to his knees in the middle of battle out of sheer relief alone.

Inappropriate. Stupid. Asking for it. Steve could list on more things that would get him killed or something decidedly worse, but as it was, keeping a safe distance was hard when Bucky smelled like he always did. It was a fleeting thing since he wouldn’t stay long by Steve’s side, bounding off to join the Howling Commandos into the death trap with offences that had Hydra soldiers dropping like flies after one punch.

But Steve _—stupid, stupid Steve—_ was a mated man missing everything he left behind, and there was no stopping the foolish yearning that made up a fuss every time he watched Bucky leave his line of sight.

Bucky Barnes in 1943 was an unbonded Omega but had the distinctive smell of Steve’s Bucky. So it was familiar, it made him yearn too much too fast, and Steve had a hard time concentrating when Bucky’s scent teased his nose even when the man himself had left his side minutes ago.

Consequently, Steve fought a little too— _enthusiastically_ , if someone wanted a polite way to explain what he did. If Bucky didn’t have most of his attention on trying to stomp on growing parasites like the rest of them were, he’d probably call Steve out for taking all the fun from them on how hard and fast he let his shield snap the necks of Hydra soldiers he could get his hands on.

He probably _did_ notice, if the curious look Bucky shot him was any indication. But Steve only stepped over a body and moved forward.

 _Stupid, stupid Steve_ was repressed in every possible way when it came to one Bucky Barnes in this timeline of excessively boiled food and rapid polio that he was getting grumpy. Tired and grumpy were no match made in heaven, and the little black storm they produced was no doubt perched on his head like a demon.

This Hydra dungeon had been facility number three. Everything had gone smoothly and according to plan, and the only casualty was when someone brought a knife to a gun fight and managed to swipe at Dernier right in the arm when they least expected it. It was nothing a stitch or two can’t fix, though, as well as implementing bragging rights for having a cool scar for the rest of his life.

After everyone set up their shared tents and collapsed face first in them, Steve only then made way back to the one he shared with Bucky, hoping he would actually be there when Steve couldn’t find him earlier after the last sound of gunshot finally fell silent around the abandoned floor of Hydra’s hideout.

His scent was probably as terrible as he felt because most soldiers steered away from him as Steve stomped in between other tents, jaw sore from how he had been grinding his teeth together throughout the fight. He tried not to scowl too much, but agitation rolled off his shoulders in waves that he might as well have a neon sign slapped to his forehead with how distressed he was feeling. It didn’t help his only remedy to get rid of that mess wasn’t keen at the thought of _them_ just yet.

Pushing away his sour mood, he tried to think of something else, and ended up with when Howard had showed Steve and Peggy his blueprints.

“Just so you know what it’d look like once you come back,” Howard had said as both of them crowded over the spread plan. Steve was supposed to leave in another three hours. “I’ve already started on it, learning about molecular particles and hardcore physics from some books I borrowed so that I don’t accidentally split your body in between dimensions halfway, but,” he shrugged when Steve glared rather balefully at him. “No pressure. Clearly up to you.”

“This is going to take months,” Peggy muttered, letting her weight rest on the hand touching the plan. 

“Less, if I’m fast,” Howard agreed, clutching his hip. “And then, we’d have to test this monstrosity with something decidedly _not_ alive first. That’s already taking more time. Human experiments come later.” 

Steve didn’t meet the gaze directed to him. “Wish I can do something to help.”

“You’re fighting this war,” Peggy assured him. “You _are_ helping.”

Steve was a patient man when he wanted to be, but the thought of leaving the future with Thanos rampant on his friends had him swallowing his misgivings about the project going slightly faster, if possible.

But he couldn’t ask that from Howard when having a full team on making the machine was already limited. It was hard enough that Howard had to make them swear to keep their mouths shut or there would be consequences, but if Phillips got a whiff of their— _shenanigans_ , for lack of a better word, a stack of papers that stamped red with ‘DISHONOURABLE DISCHARGE’ would be waiting for them later.

He took a deep breath, and pushed the flap of the tent open.

Only to find that Bucky wasn’t alone, and Steve had all but froze near the entrance as the two men kissed in the middle of the space.

His presence probably alerted them then because they jerked back, chest heaving as they tried to catch their breaths. Steve realised that the man Bucky brought in was young, still in his early twenties most likely, with curly brown hair and deep green eyes that looked at Steve as if a guillotine was waiting for him outside.

Steve wasn’t sure who looked more like a deer caught in the headlights — himself or the two of them. Green Eyes had his hand crept up under Bucky’s shirt, and from how Bucky was clutching onto Green Eyes’s opened fly, it looked as if they were going to escalate their affair sooner than planned before Steve decided to barge in.

He straightened himself. It was his tent too, he could barge in all he wanted.

Something sharp pricked his nose, and Steve snapped his head towards Green Eyes’s way, hackles almost rising as his mind snarled _Alpha_. The stench of arousal wasn’t helping, and Steve’s nose flared in fury.

It felt disgustingly like an intrusion, but only perspective could tell who was intruding on who.

The other Alpha, Green Eyes, was clearly answering using his instincts at this point, who had the cheek to almost bare his teeth in possessiveness had it not been for the way Bucky wrenched his hands away from the man. 

Green Eyes looked at Bucky in confusion, who was tugging down his shirt back as he held Steve’s eyes, frustration and panic and embarrassment rolled into that obvious tensed grind of his lower jaw.

Steve didn’t want to see this.

He stepped back, allowing the flap to drop down as he stalked away, ignoring how Bucky was already saying, “ _Steve_ —“

Steve let his feet bring him wherever they wanted, the ball in his throat rolled gratingly as he blindly manoeuvred the tents and people alike before he was out of the site. It was crossing past the trees, tall and dark as they let the orange streaks of the sun filter through the branches and leaves alike, and Steve walked and walked until some reds mingled with the colours and found himself standing by the river. 

He took a deep breath of the sharp cool air, the sound of running water filtering in against the ringing in his ears, before he exhaled sharply through his teeth, hand combing past his hair.

It shouldn’t be his problem with who Bucky wants to sleep with in this timeline. They were not mates here, this timeline’s Steve had been too dense on the ways of wooing partners. To suddenly throw what he had done years later would make everything with Bucky feel more awkward than it should be.

If 1943 Steve Rogers actually had the guts to court Bucky properly back when they were still sharing an apartment, it would give Steve the assurance that he wouldn’t lose his mind on some Alpha’s mangy paws on Bucky.

He pressed his thumb and middle finger into his eyes. It wasn’t his problem. He shouldn’t be simmering to the lid when Bucky wasn’t _his_.

Steve let the sound of birds chirping distract him, flushing out the red from his vision as he dropped his hand from his face, watching the river gliding smoothly over the pebbles and snagging stray twigs along with the current.

Once he calmed down, Steve made sure he didn’t give himself away when he stayed perfectly still, before slowly and quietly inhaling the air again around him.

There was nothing. Steve thought he smelled something or someone near him, but the fresh greenery was all that intruded his senses as he peered over his shoulder, scanning past the barks and shrubs alike.

With that in mind, Steve dropped his shield to the ground.

It was peeling the suit away from his body, and once he got the top to join the shield by his feet, the cool air was almost a pleasant thing against his still drying sweat. He only continued to unbuckle his pants before getting himself out of it.

And then he was naked, letting the air run over his skin, toes digging into the damp ground as he made his way towards the river. He clenched his jaw against the freezing water, waddling in deeper until the level reached to his waist, to his ribs, before he stopped.

He could hear his own breath, laboured as he let himself get used to the temperature. Birds squawk as they flew over his head. The pebbles were almost slippery under the soles of his feet. The small hairs on the back of his neck stand to the end from the cold, and possibly something else.

He tilted his head to where Bucky might be, and with a deep breath, Steve sank into the icy water until every sound was cut off.

* * *

“How are things?”

Steve was on the line with Peggy, cross-legged on his cot with the large headpiece to his ear from where it was connected to the radio, spinning the pencil he had in hand while the crossword puzzle stared back at him under the lamp light.

“As well as it can be,” she replied, and Steve was able to hear the shuffle of papers on her side of the line. “Stark’s finishing off his cigarettes faster than you can say uncle, but other than that, everything’s fine.”

Steve filled in the word boxes with _hubris_. “People found out later those things would turn your lungs into ash.”

“Really?”

“I’ve seen some footage when they were warnin’ us about it.” It was a commercial on TV when Steve had been scrolling for some shows to watch. That was a long time ago. “If someone was gonna compare a smoker’s lungs with a slab of old concrete, there wouldn’t be much difference.”

“Charming. I’ll make sure to tell Stark that later every time he puts on a new stick in a span of an hour.” She lowered her voice then. “The process is slow, Steve. I can’t tell you much other than it’s still on going, and how it may not exactly be fully ready once you get back.” Then, she let out a chuckle. “Committing felony behind their backs sure is exciting though. I haven’t had this much fun for a while until you came along.”

Cheers erupted from outside, and what Steve saw through the small opening of the flap of his tent was a wrestling match that was happening in the middle of the clearing, right beside the bonfire.

“I’m worried,” he murmured, looking back to his puzzle with a furrow of his brows, not quite focusing on it anymore. “About how you’re all included in this. It could make you lose your jobs. I shouldn’t have asked anything from you.”

“That’s very sweet, Steve, but we know what we’ve signed up for. And how would you go back to your time if you didn’t come to us? You don’t have to worry about it, you know.”

“I’m jeopardising your lives here, Pegs.”

“You’re making this more difficult than it should be,” she pointed out. “It’s fine. What all we need right now is that you come back here in one piece.”

“It _is_ a difficult situation,” he objected, giving up on continuing his puzzle entirely as he tapped his knee with the pencil. “Time travel? Time machine? You helping someone who’s basically a criminal?”

“You’re a _what?_ ”

Steve stiffened, a wince breaking through as he rubbed the side of his face. But, the slip got away and the damage was done.

“Steve.” Peggy called out tersely. “What did you do?”

“A lot of things,” he admitted. “Fighting aliens, putting down Hydra, pissing off a lot more countries than I can count.”

There was a small sigh. “How did that even happen?”

“Let’s just say they wanted me to have curfews in doing what’s supposed to be done,” Steve said, leaning against his hand from where he sat. “Or ‘restrictions’ would be a better word. And I said no.”

“Your shitty inability to follow rules _did_ get you in trouble after all,” Peggy accused, causing Steve to laugh. “Eighty years later, and you’re still fighting big people that could’ve easily taken you down. What does it take to make you agree with them for once?”

He didn’t tell her why it was so important to him in refusing to sign the Sokovia Accords. Why, until now, Secretary Ross was still on his ass about it the moment they saw each other again. There were absolutely no regrets on his part; Steve broke the team and dropped his shield because of the Accords, and he’d do it again in a heartbeat if it concerned on the freedom that was being taken away and on Bucky’s innocence.

 _Especially_ if it had to do with Bucky.

If the vacant spot on top of Steve’s name would keep them on their toes, then let them dance for all he cared.

Steve only hummed. “I can think of a few.”

“I can’t imagine what they are,” she told him wryly. There were more papers being shuffled at the background. “I’ll talk to you later, Steve. And good luck.”

“Thanks, Peggy.”

There was another wave of cheers outside, pulling his attention towards it.

Curious now, Steve stood up from the cot and pushed the flap away.

They were all circled around the bonfire, with the kind of flame that was big and red as it tried to have the skies for itself, flickering with pride. It lit up the clearing around it, and the cause of the commotion was inside the circle these men formed as they watched the show. Steve walked nearer to have a closer look.

The dark oranges and reds glowed soft against the bare skin of Bucky’s arms from where he was in arm lock with one of the men. It was having those black shadows dip into the dent of his dimples and the feral grin that stretched across his face.

Bucky had his shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, with sleeves rolled to his elbows and pants above his ankles. The other man had his shirt off, sweaty with exertion, his face tightly contorted with a vein sticking out of his forehead as he tried to fight the arm wrapped around his neck.

They scuffled around as the man tried to disarm Bucky with an elbow to his solar plexus, trying to be swift and accurate over the limb that coiled around his airways. The crowd cheered for them, yelling their names. Bucky saw what was coming and caught his elbow, before twisting his arm behind his back until the man wheezed out in surprise, eyes almost bulging out of his sockets.

The man tapped his arm twice before Bucky let go, sucking in huge amounts of breath from where he was bent halfway with his hands on his knees, all the other men shouting support while Bucky only waited, giving him some space.

Steve found himself with the Howlies, accepting the bottle of gin Dugan passed to him the moment he sat down beside him.

“He’s been at it for a while,” Dugan said as a greeting. “The man’s insatiable. He just accepts it when some of us would’ve collapsed after one or even two hustles.” He took a swing from his own bottle. “This is Bastard Number 3, and Barnes ain’t quitting anytime soon.”

“At least he’s sweating now,” Gabe added from Dugan’s other side. “He took down the first person in less than three minutes without a damn strain. The rest of us went apeshit. We’re also very jealous.”

“Very,” Morita agreed, nodding his head solemnly. But, there was humour in his eyes when he glanced at Steve. “But, don’t let him hear that.”

“Too late for that,” Dugan gruffed out. “Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes are two peas in a pod, right? Brother in arms and all that. So if Rogers knows we’re talking ‘bout Barnes, then Barnes would know we’re talking ‘bout Barnes.”

Amusement burst in his chest. “You’re sayin’ I’ll snitch on you?”

“With Barnes? Oh yeah, definitely. Cause you two are forever,” Dugan crossed two fingers together. “ _This_.”

Steve stared at him, silently hoping they hadn’t seen how he had been mooning after his best friend from the sides, catching himself unable to look away more than once. “Yeah, I’d definitely tell him.” He conceded, causing Dugan to snort as his hand gestured to Steve as if to say _See?._ “But only if you let me.”

“You’re asking permission, Cap?” Morita teased, his grin crooked.

“What do you take me for?” Steve huffed out playfully.

Dugan patted his arm, and it felt condescendingly pitying. “A too loyal of a friend, that’s what. But don’t worry, it’s a good thing.”

They all watched as the man tried to sweep at Bucky from the back of his knees, but Bucky was able to avoid it cleanly before he used the advantage of the opening the man left for him by throwing him to the ground.

A wave of cheers erupted around them, loud and deafening, watching how Bucky straightened himself up and pushed his hair away from his damp forehead with a swipe of his hand. But he was grinning, wide and open, before he took a cheeky bow that caused the people around him to applaud and whistle shrilly.

“What in the— what’s he even on?” Gabe muttered as Bucky offered a hand to the man, where both of them laughed good-naturedly as the man clasped Bucky’s shoulder. “Because whatever that thing is? I want some of it.”

Steve felt his stomach curdle at the words.

They didn’t know what really happened to Bucky when he was in that room, strapped to the cot while reciting his own serial number like a broken recorder, falling in and out conscious from how heavily he was drugged. He was used as Zola’s guinea pig while being prodded by his rats, the bastardised version of the serum Steve was given poked into his system.

They didn’t know that the serum living in Bucky’s body was the reason that he was equipped with almost endless energy, one that once parred Steve toe to toe in combat. Steve remembered how off-guard he had gotten the first time he fought Bucky, the Winter Soldier, in the middle of the open street of DC and almost got killed for it.

They didn’t know, and Steve couldn’t say anything about it to them without having the risk of revealing the nightmare Bucky went through. That kind of gore, as time passed on, would escalate in more ways than one but as for now, Steve tried to protect him as much as he could.

Someone yelled for another round. Steve realised it was Dernier, clutching onto his canteen of what he knew was some sort of concoction that had put down any normal man, his smile wide under his mustache. The whole circle joined his sentiment, clapping their hands and stomping their feet with a beat.

Bucky laughed, loud and sure, head thrown back to expose the long column of his throat.

“Alright, _alright_ ,” he shouted loudly over the chaos, eliciting more rowdy cheers. There was almost a flirtatious way in how he ruffled his hair, strands of them falling into his eyes as he swept them over the noisy crowd. “Last one, and then I’m hittin’ the hay, fellas.” He grinned again, broad and wicked and devastatingly handsome. “Who’s next?”

Steve wasn’t blind to how his charming antics had men wrapped around his pinky, who eyed Bucky as he stood there, chest and arms and neck bared, as if he _wanted_ everyone to trip over their own damn tongue as they openly ogled him from head to toe.

Something big and green reared its ugly head as Steve watched it all happening in front of him. If Natasha could see his face now, she’d probably support him by egging him on, knowing he’d just want an excuse to stand up and step forward like he wanted to.

He _really_ wanted to.

To which, he did _exactly_ that, shoving the bottle of gin into Morita’s chest that he scrambled to catch as Steve stood up.

It caused a hoot of wolf whistles as Steve stepped into the clearing, causing Bucky to swivel around until those steel eyes meet his.

Bucky let his grin twist into a knowing smirk.

“Now, this?” Dugan started with a chuckle somewhere behind Steve. “This is going to be interesting.”

“I won’t go easy on you,” Bucky claimed as Steve stood several feet in front of him. “Gonna make Captain America run for his money somehow.”

Steve shrugged his shoulders, making a show of shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “I’d like to see you try.”

That caused a lot of _oh’s_ to ripple around the crowd.

Steve felt his mouth quirking up to one side.

Something flashed in those eyes, hot and striking, and Bucky let out a low chuckle instead, one that had heat shooting to his abdomen when the glint of his teeth could be seen. “Bragging will always be an ugly look on you, Stevie.”

Steve didn’t get to reply when Bucky was already making the first strike.

The hits Bucky landed on him weren’t much different than the time when the Winter Soldier first attacked him at DC. Maybe Bucky had been more precise then, hitting him firm and where it truly hurt while Steve was struggling to catch up. This Bucky, young and beautiful, had the precision of the sniper he was but he was still grinning, the sharp edge of his teeth bared for the world to see.

As Steve only leaned on the defensive, he had to remind himself that this was just a brawl. But Bucky looked as if he wanted to take a bite of his flesh and spit it out near his feet; his punches rattled his bones, and it was so much staggering than when Bucky was a boxer for a while and was still teaching Steve the proper ways of tucking your elbows to yourself. Steve remembered visiting Bucky when he was training, remembered how harsh the white lights looked when they shone on him.

When Bucky mimed a jab to the right, Steve knew what he wanted to do next and grabbed the upcoming fist that swung from his left. It was seeing the startled look on his face before Steve was tugging him forward until they were face to face.

“You done?” Steve asked archingly, his other hand holding onto his shoulder.

This close, Steve could see how Bucky was trying to not breathe so heavily through his mouth. “Never knew you became a bigger punk in the future,” he jeered, staring at where Steve wrapped his fist with his fingers. “Should’ve known.”

Bucky took that moment to twist around and dig his elbow into his stomach, causing Steve to grunt before Bucky eeled his way out of his grasp and landed a kick to his side that almost toppled him over.

Lightning fast, just before Bucky could withdraw his leg, Steve jerked out his hand and took hold of his ankle to yank him down, and Bucky fell with a yelp and a loud _thud_ that he had no time to recover when Steve pounced on him.

They rolled on the ground trying to get the upper hand — it was a whirl of hair and grabbing hands and kicking feet before Steve was at the top, legs pressed against Bucky’s with his hand wrapped around his wrists onto the dip of his waist, pushing him to the ground to keep him still.

Bucky cursed as he tried to throw him, using all his strength to heave Steve off his back despite the limited movement he was being forced into. But Steve pushed back, using his weight to lean against Bucky’s bonded hands until his chest almost brushed against his shoulder blades.

From where his face was planted to the ground, Bucky let out a wheezing, “ _Fuck_ ”.

Bucky gave another try to escape before Steve used his other hand to push onto his nape, pressing him more firmly to the ground. Bucky snarled, furious, before he wriggled some more.

“Christ, Buck,” Steve muttered. “Tap out before you hurt yourself.”

Bucky growled, “ _God-fucking-dammit—_ ”

When it was obvious Steve wasn’t going to let go anytime soon, Bucky slumped against his hold, his harsh breaths coming out in pants as he tried to glare at Steve from the corner of his eye.

There were cheers and there were groans, the tinkling of money cropped up a second later while Dugan was barking with laughter, clearly claiming his stake.

But, all Steve could feel was the body under him. Their legs were still tangled together, every breath they took caused his chest to graze against his back, and Steve realised the error he did when he stared at the hand that curled around Bucky’s bare nape as if he was going to carry him up by the scruff.

Steve moved his hand to let go, but the accidental brush of a finger against the corner of his jaw had Bucky letting out a small groan that caused something sharp dropping down to his feet. Bucky clamped his mouth shut, eyes closing with the same type of shame Steve was going wallow over in their tent.

 _Omega,_ something purred inside his mind, lovely and almost sympathetic when the thought of Bucky in Wakanda flashed past his eyes. 

Bucky’s exposed scent gland was enough to make Steve tumble into the memory of having future Bucky, _his_ Bucky, spread against the bedsheets with his head tilted to the ceiling and his legs wrapped around his waist. It was having Bucky's long hair spread across his pillow, his hut chilly from the morning air as the first streak of sunshine peeked through the drapes; Steve was kissing him with tongue and teeth as he rolled his hips deeper into him, his knot snug against Bucky’s entrance.

There was a gasp, a whine that had Steve swallowing his sounds hungrily as blunt nails scratched down his back. There was Bucky, red and beautiful and so _needy_ , pulling him nearer than it was already possible.

Steve could still taste the moment, and it made his skin prickle with such _want_ when the heat of the body underneath him was achingly similar. 

But, this Bucky wasn’t his. _This Bucky wasn’t his._

When Steve clambered up to widen the space between them, his didn’t realise how close he was to bury his face into Bucky’s neck until his nose bumped into his skin. There was a hitch of a breath from the Omega under him, and Steve felt like he was swallowing rusted nails before he jumped to his feet, thankful that only a few seconds have passed before anyone noticed something went wrong between them.

It didn’t help—

It didn’t _fucking_ help that Bucky’s scent was on his nose now, and there was a high chance Steve was going to find some place secluded and jerk his emotions out before he beat himself up for doing the unforgivable.

Bucky rolled over to his back and stared at the dark skies, counting the stars for a while with pursed lips.

Steve inhaled the smoke of the bonfire to will the sweet smell away, before he cleared his throat and offered a hand to Bucky. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

He meant about the fight, but he hoped it would cover whatever it was that happened in that short amount of time too.

Bucky eyed him for a moment, almost thoughtful from where he was still sprawled against the dirt, before he reached out and clasped onto the offered palm as Steve pulled him to a stand.

“So, that’s what it felt like to fight Steve Rogers,” Bucky said instead, composure settling onto his shoulders like a second skin as he aimed a half smile at Steve. Steve was envious; he was still reeling from his memories. “I could say those poor bastards in the alley didn’t know what hit ‘em, except they deserved it.”

Steve chuckled, clasping onto his shoulder as they made their way towards the Howlies. “I’m pretty sure you’re the cause of their broken noses though.”

“And who’s the root of the problem when he could’ve just turned away?” Bucky paused, lowering his voice. “Tell me you stopped doin’ anything remotely stupid as that.”

Steve only shrugged in response, causing Bucky to shake his head in disbelief. “Unbelievable. I hope someone gives you shit for it since it’s obvious I won’t be there to do it.”

Well. That wasn’t true. Bucky didn’t let it rest the moment he found out all the stunts Steve did from Natasha and Sam, traitors that they were, and Steve had been getting the receiving end of Bucky’s exasperated glare for the whole hour and a half when his so-called best friends were retelling the story with open glee.

“A few people,” Steve confirmed, and Bucky rolled his eyes as he accepted the bottle of gin from Morita.

* * *

Everything had gone so well.

The fight was almost over. The Hydra facility was cleared of all that needed to be cleared, what soldiers they found in the building either ran out to fight them off or were dead. There were little things needed to be done before they could leave.

But the hill Bucky was perched on exploded, dirt and broken trees flying into the air, and Steve thought his heart had frozen over.

“No,” he let out hoarsely. “Bucky!”

The Hydra soldier he’d been fighting with was quick to aim a gun to his face when he was distracted. Steve grabbed it and jerked the nozzle upwards a second before the trigger was pulled, the loud shot it made almost deafening. Without a second thought, he twisted the soldier’s arm and landed a hard kick to the back of his knee that the crunch of bones was drowned out by the shriek of pain, before Steve punched him in the face until he was quiet.

He ran.

When Steve was close enough to see the tree they all dubbed as ‘Bucky’s Eye’, Steve saw how Bucky himself was trying to fend off a soldier from where he was pressing himself to the bark, gun in hand, dead soldiers by his feet. His sniper was several feet away from where he stood, jacket soaked with his own blood and some trickling down the side of his head. The soldier had a knife in his hand as he advanced on Bucky, a barrel of a shield perched on his arm as every bullet rocketed off the steel.

Steve ran faster and saw the way Bucky was already blinking blood and sweat away from his eyes, the gun out of ammo, before he vaulted towards the soldier just as the soldier pitched forward to attack as well.

Just as Steve got to them, he saw a couple more Hydra soldiers coming their way, shouting and loading their pistols before taking aim towards Bucky. 

Steve was glad he decided to use his old shield throughout their missions. While the one T’Challa gave him had its uses —it was more convenient, portable and stealthy enough for him to bring it anywhere— the star spangled blue, white, and red was easily something he could get fond of as he tossed the shield towards incoming company. The shield sprung upon their heads before Steve caught it with one hand, not waiting to watch them fall before he grabbed the one upon Bucky.

The soldier’s eyes widened when he saw Steve, before he started spitting out German that vaguely sounded like he was threatening him with Schimdt’s name. Only, Steve’s ears were ringing from fury with how beaten up Bucky look, and he didn’t think twice before he headbutted the man so hard the loud crack it emitted could be mistaken as lightning. The soldier’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull, unconscious.

“Jesus Christ, Stevie.” Bucky muttered through gritted teeth, sounding winded as he stared at the still body.

Steve threw the soldier to the side before he turned to Bucky, who was on the ground while leaning against the tree. His hand was pressed onto his bleeding side, his fingers soaked red.

“Bucky?” Steve knelt beside him, hand hovering over his. Bucky was already pale, sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. “Buck, you alright?”

“Debatable,” Bucky mumbled, blinking rapidly as if he couldn’t see Steve properly. It set panic spinning in his chest. “I had him, though.”

“Sure you did, pal,” Steve assured, glad that his voice didn’t shake as he wrapped an arm around Bucky’s waist, careful in not touching the wound. “We have to get that checked. You think you can stand?”

“Any chance I’d get another shot on blasting those assholes to hell?” Bucky grunted as Steve slowly helped him to his feet. The metallic smell of blood was a stinging taste on Steve’s tongue as Bucky clutched onto his side, breaths coming out heavily as he continued, “Could land another shot through their brains. See if they like if someone else was messin’ around with it.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Steve retorted, gut twisting as he hefted most of Bucky’s weight against him. Bucky was blinking away the vertigo again. “We won’t get there in time like this. Buck, I’m gonna have to carry you.”

Bucky whipped his head to shoot him a glare. Steve was surprised he was capable of doing that despite his condition. “I can walk just fine, Rogers.”

“Not if we wanna make sure you don’t bleed to death. C’mon Buck, you do it all the time when I was half-dying in our apartment,” Steve argued, causing Bucky’s eyes to widen in disbelief, as if bringing this up was appropriate in any way while war waged on below them. “We’ll get there faster if I carry you. And I promise I won’t drop you.”

“That’s not the point,” Bucky hissed. He shook his head, fingers tightening on Steve’s uniform. “Fuck. _Fine_. I’m gonna be a laughing stock for the rest of my life, but if it means I won’t die on this goddamn mission, then that’s fucking fine I suppose.”

Steve smiled, enamoured. “Ready?”

Bucky slapped his flank. “Just do it, punk.”

Steve stooped down and tried to be as gently as possible. But Bucky wasn’t able to swallow down the whimper when Steve had him in his arms, more blood gushing out from his side.

“You okay?” Steve asked worriedly, and Bucky only gave a jerky nod, one hand clutching onto his shoulder.

“Just _go_.”

Steve tried to sprint through the fire without jostling Bucky as much as he could. It was bringing Bucky tighter to his chest, lifting up his shield to protect them both when more gunshot came at their way.

That was until another explosion went off and caused more screams, the shooting immediately cut off. When Steve lifted his head, he saw Dernier giving them a salute from where he was a few feet from the burnt site, before he jumped into the fray to help the others.

Once Steve had them both away from enemy lines and under the open tent of the small makeshift infirmary, he let out a breath of relief when he saw Morita tending to someone else, his sleeves rolled to his elbows with brows furrowed deep as he tapped the gauze on the man’s cheek. Morita looked up when both of them stumbled near.

“Oh man,” was the first thing Morita said as Steve gently laid Bucky down on the only other empty cot. “What happened to you, Sarge? I thought your tree was fool proof.”

“Not fooling anyone enough,” Bucky grumbled, eyelids falling close as his jaw worked through the pain.

“Stab wound,” Steve said as a way of explanation, watching how Morita pried Bucky’s fingers away to have a better look. “Landed between his ribs, I’m guessing. I’m just glad it didn’t hit his heart.”

Morita let out a hum as he pulled Bucky’s jacket open, and the gruesome sight of his soaked white shirt and gaping wound looked worse than Steve thought. “I’ll have to stitch this,” Morita informed them both, already moving to get the tools and a rag. “It needs a few layers, and I’m out of anesthesia until Colonel Phillips would send in some more in a couple of days.” He glanced at Bucky as he filled a bowl with warm water. “You’re gonna have to bite.”

“Sure thing.” Bucky looked at Steve then. “Your worrying will kill me if this thing won’t. Get out of here, they still need you.”

 _I need you_ , Steve almost said desperately. He set his jaw. “Bucky—“

“Save it, Steve. I’ll be fine.” His eyes softened at this, and if that was going to convince Steve to leave, it wasn’t working. “Trust me. Otherwise, you’re gonna be in Jimmy’s way if you don’t.”

When Steve met Morita’s eye, he nodded. “I’ll look after him, Cap. Don’t worry.”

He never wanted to leave. He wanted to be beside Bucky, making sure he was okay, making sure he was safe.

But Bucky was right about that too; Steve would still have to help the other men on finishing the fight, and he would only be taking out space if he lingered on. Going back was the only option.

He gripped Bucky’s shoulder. “I’ll be quick.”

Bucky grabbed onto his arm, almost tugging Steve down closer to him, his eyes bright. “Don’t die.”

Steve clasped onto the back of Bucky’s head and gently bumped their foreheads together. “You too, you jerk.”

Bucky let out a shocked laugh before Morita was pushing him back to the cot, and Steve brought that sound with him back to the battlefield.

Everything finally settled down minutes later. Smoke was a heavy blanket above their heads with debris scattered around the grounds. They all trudged back to their site with soot staining their skin; some of them needed to have a look at the cuts they obtained, but they were alright. They hadn’t lost any man yet.

Steve walked fast, slipping past them before he found himself slowing down once he was near Bucky’s cot. 

He was shirtless, the bandages wrapped around his torso covering the closed wound. The blood on his face was cleaned and the cut on his forehead was tended to as well. Bucky peeled his eyes open before Steve was beside him, seemingly able to hear him already with exhaustion obvious in the bruises under his eyes.

“Thank God,” Bucky let out.

Steve sat on the cot near his feet, letting his shield propped against his legs. “Right back atcha.” He studied the lines on his face. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been dragged across a floor of broken glass before I was pulled right back up to start again.” Bucky offered him a wry smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Steve must have something on his face when Bucky tapped his hip with his boot. “You’re breaking my heart with that look. I’m not exactly dead yet, Stevie. Can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Too soon, Buck,” Steve said quietly. Bucky’s smile turned into a wince. “Can’t help it if I worry too much when you’re lying here looking like crap. Especially after I just saw you losing a lot of blood.”

“Part of the job.” Bucky looked away then, watching the Howling Commandos and others sat down a few ways away from the infirmary, their shoulders drooping and tired as they drank from their canteens. “Can’t help what we go through when we’re neck deep in this war.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’ve been fighting a lot of things in the future, and seeing people I care ‘bout get hurt doesn’t sit well with me.”

Bucky turned back to him again, an odd look on his face that usually came up whenever he was going through things he didn’t want Steve to know. Steve used to call it his thinking face. “You’re mated,” he suddenly said. It wasn’t so much a question than a statement. “You have someone already. Who is it?”

Steve returned his gaze, the tightness in his chest coming back when all he wanted to say that it was him, it was _Bucky_ who he chose to spend the rest of his life with. There was no one else. The great need to chase away that forced nonchalance from his face was a painful thing.

But telling him the truth wasn’t possible. Steve knew this.

“Yeah, Buck. I do.”

Bucky nodded, closing his eyes. “They’re treating you right?”

Steve realised then if he was able to stay on this timeline long enough to meet that fateful day, where they would be miles above the ground with snow whipping into their faces, he would be given another chance to change what was inevitable in the past. The train wouldn’t happen, no one will die.

The realisation almost overwhelmed him then, but Steve offered Bucky an easy smile. “He means the world to me.”

When Bucky opened his eyes again, it was having this curious look. “How does it feel like? To have someone bond with for the rest of your life?”

“It’s everything you've ever wanted. Something to be cherished.” Unable to help himself, Steve added, “You’ll go through the same thing too.”

Bucky let out a bark of laughter. “I doubt that. Don’t suppose I settled with someone else and have a family of my own?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not when I’m like this.”

“Someone already—“ Steve stopped, licking his lips. “Someone will love you, Bucky. You’re very hard not to love.”

“That’s nice, but I’m an Omega prattling around with guns and enemy bombs when I should’ve stayed at home and pick on someone to dot over,” Bucky said tiredly, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “I’m losing value as we speak. I can hear my Ma weeping into her apron ‘bout how she won’t be able to have grandbabies.”

“You make it sound like you’re some object being auctioned off.” Steve took hold of his ankle, bringing his attention back to him. “You’re _not_. You have to stop thinking like that.”

Bucky only met his look unwaveringly. “In this world, that’s just life.”

In this world, discrimination and bias were worse. In this world, so many of those who couldn’t have what they want had been cast aside and looked down to.

Steve gave his ankle a squeeze. “It gets better.”

“You say that because you’re, what, from the future? Shit, Steve,” Bucky lets out a single bout of humourless laughter. “How am I supposed to believe someone will have me when you look like you’ve aged five years when almost eighty years have passed in your time?”

Steve didn’t have an answer for that, but Bucky was already talking again before he could think of one. “ _How_ are you still young?”

Steve straightened his back. “I can’t tell you that.”

Bucky locked his jaw. “Why the hell not? Did you tell Carter and Stark then?”

“No. I can’t tell any of you why, or how, I woke up in the next century looking the same.”

“ _Why?_ ”

Steve pressed his thumb into Bucky’s ankle, a slight bump through his boots and socks. “You’ll only try to stop it.” 

“Is that so bad?” Bucky demanded.

Steve didn’t answer again. Bucky probably realised something when something stricken passed through his face. “Did Hydra had anything to do with this? Are they threatening you?”

When Steve drove the Valkyrie deep into the middle of nowhere, ice stretching far and wide, he had thought of Bucky. Steve had thought of how Bucky had fallen into the ice like he would, and prayed they’d meet on the same ground once they reached afterlife.

And then, Steve woke up more than seventy years later.

Steve nodded. “They’re one of the reasons.” He shifted, bringing his hand to his lap. “You gotta know this though. Despite everything, you’re still my best pal.”

Bucky exhaled heavily through his nose. “Steve—“

“You _are_ ,” Steve pressed. “After everything that happened in my life, you’re my constant.” He gave a small smile. “Please remember that.”

Steve could show him how much Bucky meant to him, how the seven layers of Hell could open its maw and try to take him away again as Steve tried to save him again and again and. _And_. Steve would have him. Steve would have him throughout the years and he wouldn’t think of leaving him ever again.

Bucky darted his eyes away, hand tensing by his side. It wasn’t the time. Not yet.

Not yet.

Steve patted his knee before he stood up. “Get some rest. I’ll see you later.”

“Steve?”

When he looked back, Bucky had his arm thrown onto his forehead, gaze steady and sure on Steve. “I’ll be fine, y’know?”

Steve felt something rolled in his throat. “Yeah, Buck. I know.”


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just once,” Steve promised, but then, Bucky stole a look at the crowd. “I don’t care, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
> 
> “What I’m worried about is how we could get reported,” Bucky told him dryly. “Fraternising with the Captain. Ain’t that a headline.”
> 
> “Hardly fraternising when we’re only dancing.” Steve pointed out, fingers wiggling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 3Hs happens here: Horny, Hopeless, and Hot Mess. It’s figuring it out and coming together again. Literally. You’ll see.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Wakanda, 2018**

“You don’t have to do this, y’know.”

“Your ears get cold easily,” Bucky countered from his lap, not looking up from his crocheting as his fingers moved smoothly with the steel needles. Steve was still amazed he could do it with one hand know, albeit a bit slower than he used to all those decades ago, and using his teeth once in a while to assist. “And you’re gonna be at the ass crack of somewhere freezing later, this is for the best.”

Steve squinted at the stretch of field before them, catching the way those goats graze the grass on his sketchbook. It was propped against his arm as he leaned against a tree bark, glad he was in his undershirt when the breeze blew past their way. “Yeah, but, you don’t _have_ to, y’know?”

“Stevie.” He looked down, meeting Bucky’s flat look. “Just let me do this.”

The ribbed hat was almost done, anyway. The dark blue material needed filling in some more on the top, and if Bucky felt a little creative, he’d add a pom-pom on it to look fancy. 

Steve smiled. “Alright.”

“Besides, Sam and Natasha’s hats are back at my place. You’re gonna pass all of that to them later.”

“Was it the red and white ones? I thought I saw a couple of hats on your books just now. I thought you were just picking up your hobby again and decided to make hats this time.”

“They’re all for both of them,” Bucky told him, the insistent clicking continuing between them. “See if I can make some scarves before you leave. Maybe,” he looked up again, one side of his mouth raising into a smile. “The hats and scarves would be their Christmas presents.”

Steve laughed, bending down to bump their foreheads together. “Isn’t it a little too late for that, though?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not.”

“It’s March.”

“After everything they did for you, for _us_ , I think it’s justified. Especially since I wasn’t, y’know, _awake_ when the big guy came down the chimney.”

There was no stopping the grin that grew widely across his mouth when warmth spread like molasses in his chest. The scent Steve was giving out was probably alerting everyone in ten feet radius at how completely enamoured he was. The fond exasperation on Bucky’s face said so when he shot him a look. “They’re going to appreciate it. Maybe make fun of you for missing them with a video call later, but they’d love it.”

“They’re gonna make kissy noises and coo at me like I’m some baby, huh?” Bucky grumbled at his yarn, and Steve only chuckled as he continued shading the dark coat of the stray goat. “‘Course they would, the bastards.”

“Just showin’ their love for you, Buck. Like you’re currently doing to them.”

“That’s pushin’ it a lil’ too much, Rogers.” Bucky poked his knee. “This is me being nice. I dunno ‘bout showing _love_ to _them_ , not when that’s all for you.”

Steve felt his pencil stutter to a stop. “Oh, _honey_.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Bucky huffed, cheeks already glowing red, knitting harder with his shoulders pulled to his ears that the angle made it a little harder when the process was disturbed by his own embarrassment.

Steve pushed down the needles that Bucky let out an indignant _hey_ , aiming a glare at Steve that he refused to meet when he was already raining kisses onto his cheeks, his nose, scenting him when Steve brushed his own cheek against his temple that Bucky let out a soft puff of laughter when Steve’s beard itched against his skin. 

“You’re never gonna make me finish your hat if you keep doing this,” Bucky pointed out when Steve buried his face into his jaw, his drawn landscape abandoned when his hand softly combed through silky dark hair. “Or your scarves. I really wanna make them, y’know.”

“Yeah?” Steve inquired distractedly, slowly inhaling the familiar sweet smell of his mate. 

“60 inches long each,” Bucky hummed, tilting his head as he reached up to let his fingers touch his beard, allowing Steve press a kiss onto the junction between his neck and shoulder, right above his wrap. “30 inches in length. Blue, red, cream. You, Sam, Natasha.”

“That’s not very subtle,” Steve raised his head to arch an eyebrow at him. “We’re hoping to not get caught and stay on the low.”

“Hey, if the colours are not in one hat,” Bucky shrugged, but then he raised his head to press his lips briefly against his for a peck. Steve might have stared back at him a little dopily but it wasn’t as if anyone else saw it. “You won’t be a moving target. Like that old shield of yours.”

“You’ve always hated that shield.”

“I still do,” Bucky admitted gravely, patting his cheek before he picked up where he left off. The clicking began again. “I remember watching the first time you pranced around missions with that thing on your arm as if you wanted everyone and their grandma to aim their gun at you. I was on my fucking toes the whole time hoping I’d shoot ‘em first before they start shootin’ at you. Almost gave me a goddamn heart attack the moment they twitch so much at your way.”

Steve brushed his thumb against his cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you worry so much.”

Bucky laughed, eyes shining as he looked up. “Sweetheart, you’ve been making me worried since you decided people deserved the punches you’d deliver from those skinny arms of yours at the age of eight. Not that I ever minded. I loved watching you get off on them with that mouth of yours first before you started swingin’ your fists.”

Sometimes, the past they shared came bursting through the barriers of Bucky’s memories with a bounce that left sparkles in Steve’s chest. Bucky was more inclined to talk about that rather than others, and Steve was more than happy to chip in some of the scenes to make him remember.

Steve leaned down to plant a firm kiss on Bucky that he wrinkled his nose back at him playfully. “Not a day I don’t love you for saving my ass after that. Even if you keep givin’ me hell for it every time. I don’t mind, though.”

Bucky stared at him thoughtfully. “We’re impossible people when it comes to each other.”

Steve laughed, twirling a strand of brown hair with his finger. “Pal, I think at this point, we’ve always been impossible for each other. Only we’ve been too stupid to notice it earlier.”

Bucky shrugged lightly, working on closing the top of the hat by weaving the end through the bounded off edge, pulling tightly. “Fair point.”

Watching this, watching Bucky, Steve knew what he wanted to ask next was going to take a leap in their life for their foreseeable future. The thought had been moving around in his mind ever since he first caught Bucky working around with his goats, laughing alone with them when he was tending to them with a brush in hand, unaware of Steve until he was near enough. It came back again today, through mirth about their friends.

He wanted it if Bucky wanted it. The thought of having another pair of silver-blues staring back at him excited Steve more than he realised.

“Hey, Bucky?” Steve began tentatively, finger still playing with his hair, making his other hand occupy on his unfinished sketch.

“Yeah?”

Steve licked his lips. “Ever thought of,” he began hesitantly, darkening the shade on another goat beside the earlier one. Stalling, perhaps. But he had to spread the cards all out before Bucky pulled them out of him altogether. “The fact that T’Challa kept talking about having an heir? I mean, more than usual?”

“I think it’s because his Ma’s been hounding on him and Nakia for one ever since they got together,” Bucky said. “Not wanting to cut off the royal line and all. Shuri told me how they’ve had very refined fights about it, his Ma and T’Challa I mean, even if they don’t want to admit it.”

Amused, Steve looked up. “Sounds like you have first-hand access to palace gossip.”

“Perks of being friends with a princess.” Bucky had finished the hat then, taking a second to put it up for both of them to see, before he was pushing himself up until he settled on Steve’s lap to slip it on his head. “What’s this about?”

Steve stayed still as Bucky arranged the hat to his liking. It was a perfect fit. “You ever thought of having a family? Of our own?” He swallowed dryly. “With more than the two of us?”

Bucky let his hand brush down the side of his face slowly, tucking away strays of hair under his new hat. When it settled on his shoulder, Bucky had his eyes lowered. “Sometimes,” he admitted in a low voice. “When I’m not half-way out of my mind.”

“You’re not crazy,” Steve immediately began, but Bucky shut him up with a look.

“You know what I mean,” Bucky told him knowingly. He cupped his cheek, and Steve leaned into his touch. “Sometimes, I wake up thinking someone’s standing at the corner of the room with that stupid red book with that black star in the middle. Almost every time, I throw something nearest to me at him. He disappeared the moment a novel or a pen hit his head.” Bucky gave him a wane smile. “Every time, I had to get up and pick up my stuff and hope I don’t throw up on the floor when the ghosts keep comin’ back. I thought I was getting better. And I _am_ getting better. Just not as much as I want it to be.”

Steve let his hand rest on top of his, turning his head to press a soft kiss into Bucky’s palm. “Do you still see them now?”

“Not now,” Bucky stated. “But, I’m handling it better. The very least I do now is that I don’t throw things at ‘em without thinking or I’d just hurt someone.” He winced. “I almost did with Okoye once if she hadn’t ducked down in time. Shuri said she wasn’t pissed at me but I dunno.”

“I don’t think Okoye would be mad at you for something you don’t really have control over.” Steve assured him gently. He let his thumb brush against Bucky’s knuckles. “I’m really glad you’re getting better, Buck.”

“Yeah, I’m glad too. Even if there are days when I just want _all_ of them to end.” Bucky tilted forward to rest his forehead against Steve’s, and released a deep breath that warmed his cheek. “But, I just need a lil’ more time, if it’s okay for you.”

“Bucky, you can have all the time you need,” Steve murmured, tilting his head to brush their noses together. “I’m sorry I brought it up now.”

Bucky chuckled, leaning back to look at him properly. “You make everything sound like it’s your fault. And that you can’t ask for something from me. When can you get in here,” he tapped a finger against his covered temple. “that you don’t have to take responsibility for everything I do and did?”

Steve held onto his wrist. “When I can finally get rid of that image of you falling off that train from my brain.”

Bucky’s smile turned wry, the light in his eyes dimmed with something sort of painful that Steve regretted saying those words in the first place. “Always a charmer.”

Steve winced. “I’m sorry.”

It was hard. It was always hard to unlatch that part of his life. Sometimes the screeching metal of tires and the blur of white snow rushing underneath his feet jerked him out of his sleep more than it should. The screams, _Bucky_ ’ _s_ screams, still echoed in his ears when Steve tried to calm down his heart.

“I know.” Then, Bucky went on and caught his lips with a surprise kiss. “Don’t think I hadn’t been dreaming ‘bout a lil’ girl with your hair and eyes, though. She’d be the prettiest dame everyone had ever laid eyes on that they’d drop to their knees and treat her like a queen.”

“Sounds like she’d be like you,” Steve teased, grateful for the distraction as he wrapped his arms around his waist to pull him closer, tighter, offering a silent apology that Bucky accepted with a pleased hum. “Makin’ everyone turn heads from left to right. She’d be real pretty like you too, with that pout of yours.”

“Didn’t I just said you were always the charmer?” Bucky rolled his eyes. “She’d have your spunky fire. Maybe she’ll learn to fight properly without getting her ass kicked every time she wants moral justice.” He smiled, and it was genuine and real and Steve loved him more with every inhale of his lungs. “We’d name her Sarah.”

Steve sucked in a breath, and it rattled the cage of his ribs. “Yeah,” he began shakily. “But I’ve always liked Winnie too.”

Bucky’s smile fell down slowly. It was those blue, blue eyes — wide and familiar and _Bucky_ and they were staring at Steve as if he just dropped a whole truck of well-wished shooting stars by his feet.

“Winifred Rogers-Barnes,” Steve continued quietly, smiling softly at him. “She’d be ours.”

“Stevie,” Bucky let out hoarsely, almost a warning, his fingers clutching onto his shoulder.

“Winnie,” Steve murmured again, using his thumb to brush the skin under those glassy eyes. “And us.”

* * *

**Somewhere in Europe, 1943**

It was a trap.

There hadn’t been any more amount of crawling Hydra soldiers than it should be when they first found the facility; three of them were taking watch at the heavy steel doors, where Bucky had easily shot them out without a blink. There was no backup, no rumbling tank coming their way as they quickly crept through the clearing and Falsworth shot the touchpad to death. When the doors heaved open, the gust of death that sighed from the luminescent lights of the hallway echoed with the reminiscent of the dark plague.

By then, the small hairs on the back of Steve’s neck stood up.

“Oh, I do not like this,” Falsworth muttered.

At a distance, there was an explosion. Loud, deafening if they weren’t as far away as they were. Another one went off less than a second later.

“The nearby town!” Morita gasped, whirling around towards the town’s direction. But trees obscured their vision and the haunting screams were drowned up with more gunfire.

“Dugan, I need you and Morita with five of our men to sweep through that building,” Steve commanded, what rage that shimmered in his bones controlled by his fist. He had to. _He had to_. This wasn’t the best time to slip. “See if you can salvage anything that’s important. Someone to explain what the hell were they think they’re doin’, using civilians to lure us here. If there’s nothing, I need all of you to meet us at the town immediately.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Dugan replied, the frown on his brow vicious as he gestured for the rest to follow him, running towards the building.

Steve was already moving away by then, making back towards where they hid their vehicles and the rest of the soldiers were waiting near. Their backs straightened when Steve swung his leg over his bike, while others were scrambling to their jeeps when Bucky barked for them to scurry along.

Steve pressed gas, shooting through the road with his teeth gritted so hard they might break.

A diversion. They had been stupid enough to fall for a well-made trap while Hydra blew the townspeople to pieces. Steve wasn’t sure how he’d forgive himself when he had been so careful in making sure there weren’t any loopholes this time. He had been so _sure_ he wasn’t going to stare back at more lifeless eyes when they were making rounds around continents.

This was supposed to be a second chance to avoid that. He was supposed to be _careful_.

“Cap!” Gabe shouted over the sound of their engines, the jeep trying to keep up with Steve when they managed to sweep out of the bottleneck road. “What’s the plan?”

“Bring the civilians to safety!” The cold bite of the wind was a stinging thing in his nostrils, the fog settling lightly above their heads that Steve was able to see the first line of the bricked fence. “Into the forest, out of the mess. And then we take Hydra out.”

It was manoeuvring away from them all as Steve revved his bike, lowering his body to the handles before he used the fallen tree trunk to ramp over the fence, making an entrance.

With a snap, everyone wanted to have a taste of Captain America’s blood when a disarray of bullets collided at his way. 

Steve didn’t think for a second when he let go of his bike, shield on his arm, and let the vehicle ram into the tank right in his sights. He didn’t give it a second glance when it exploded right into the bazooka perched on top, the men on it barely jumping out alive before it caught fire.

The moment Steve started swinging his shield, catching incoming Hydra soldiers under their chin until bones cracked, it was done from then.

There was no stopping how adrenaline made everything horrifyingly easy with every strike. How anger, a deep-seated thing in his rushing blood and heaving breaths, had Steve attacking these monsters with concise hits that had them taking an alarmed step back for a second too long.

That was all he needed. It was the type of distraction that served on his table and Steve was going to tackle it with the kind of gusto that once had old ladies tutting at him for his ferocious appetite.

Well, they weren’t there to give him disapproving arching eyebrows now if they saw what was happening.

A tank shot into a post office, destroying the door and windows, and civilians had to dive back into the small building before debris fell onto them all, mothers and children alike screaming for help until the sounds themselves were buried underneath crumbled rocks. There was no way out, and they were stuck.

Steve felt his breath catch, running across the clearing as fast as he could, skidding to a halt when someone shot by his feet. Snapping his head up, Steve managed to catch a glimpse of the sniper by the clock tower, the only tallest building standing in the town, and he was aiming right at Steve again. 

It was jumping away from the hit, cursing as Steve zigzagged his way out of the upcoming onslaught as a pattern of bullets rocketed on his heels. It was jumping over an upturned slab of the post office sign, and it was curling behind it when the shooting didn’t stop. 

There was a cry behind him, and when Steve looked up, two small hands were reaching out for him through the small space between all those fallen concrete and stones, their eyes round and terrified.

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” Steve soothed them, crouching lower to see tears straining their small sooted faces, wailing for his touch while their mothers and some of the townsfolk screamed in a language he couldn’t understand. “I’m gonna get you out of here, just hold on, please—“

There was a barrel of attack that made Steve take a peek from the edge of the post office sign. The sniper had fallen off the edge of the clock tower, limp and obviously dead before the body landed on the mess of the scattered ground. Steve let his eyes roam over the clearing before he caught sight of Bucky perching on the roof of a restaurant, already aiming at more soldiers that wedged themselves in between alleys that screamed of an ambush.

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” Steve said again, turning towards the people as he dug his fingers in between bricks and threw them to the side. There was a relieved sob. “Please stay back, I don’t want you to get hurt—“

The sign behind him had been flung away, exposing Steve to the skies that his eyes widened at the sight of two of the Hydra soldiers towering over him, rifles aimed at his head. Steve pushed up his shield and blocked their attacks, teeth gritted against the strain while the people behind him screamed out of fear.

Bounding up, Steve heaved them both off his neck before he swiped his shield at them, silencing them both at the same time before he turned back towards the civilians and began digging again.

“There you go,” he murmured. It was carefully pulling out a woman with a child at her hip, both of their faces stained. “Be careful.”

Morita was at his side then, causing Steve to let out a breath of relief. “They need to stay low until this blows off,” he said, carrying a boy out of the chubby hole before his father came scrambling out. “Take them with Gabe and the others, make sure they’re safe.”

“You’ll be alright, Cap?” Morita asked, worry bright in his eyes as he held an older man by side, his leg bloody and cut open while a steady stream began to drip down his limb. 

“I’ll be right behind you,” Steve said firmly, and Morita merely nodded before he slowly led the way, taking cover when needed as six people followed him from behind with two children huddling near their parents.

Steve threw his shield when three Hydra soldiers came at their way, and hit another couple more from his left. He stayed near enough to keep an eye on the people in front of him, Morita encouraging them that they were almost there, they were almost _out_.

That was until Steve felt the first two bullets bury themselves into his chest.

He gasped, stumbling when the hit of them was stronger than he anticipated that he had to grab hold onto the nearest van from falling. When he looked down, pulling his hand away from where he had subconsciously pressed into wounds, blood had already smeared his fingers.

Steve clenched his jaw, pushing himself away from the van, as he trudged out to the clearing, people shouting and guns going off left and right.

He cursed out in pain when another bullet shot into his thigh, causing him to topple readily to the ground.

Gasping, Steve caught himself from falling face first with his palm, tiny rocks digging into his flesh. When he looked up, he saw that the civilians were still crossing over to the forest, Morita urging them on as he stayed back for them to hurry through.

He had to help them. Steve pushed himself up through gritted teeth, pain bursting in his sternum and thigh as he limped out of the clearing, making his way towards them. He had to _help_ , or there wouldn’t be anyone left to save.

He managed one more step before he was shot near his neck. 

There was a shout, for his name or for some other thing that had caused the person to be so enraged, but Steve had blood in his throat with a white burst of pain flashed in his eyes that he wasn’t able to see who it was that had gotten him. He couldn’t see anything now that his eyesight was swimming, fire burning down his side and almost choking him with his own blood. 

“Steve!”

He tilted his head to the voice, unaware that he had fallen down until a hand was already on his cheek to stop him from moving so much, firm and warm. 

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” Bucky hissed. When Steve blinked away the striking lights, Bucky was dragging him out of fire range and into an alley where no one else was taking refuge, having the space to themselves. “Jesus _fucking_ Christ, I lift my eyes off you for five fucking minutes and you got yourself shot like a stag in the middle of the goddamn _meadow._ ”

The brick wall was a cooling thing against his head when Steve was propped up against it.

He blinked.

Bucky had short brown hair that fell onto his forehead. Both flesh hands were gripping onto his shoulders.

There was no metal prosthetic. Just the heavy stench of worry and fear that rolled out of Bucky in choking waves. “Bucky,” Steve rasped out, red bubbling out of his lips.

“ _No_ , no. Stop talking,” Bucky fretted, hefting Steve’s arm around his shoulders while he held onto his waist. Giddily, Steve thought the circumstances of their situation were awfully familiar. “We’re gonna get you somewhere safe, and we’re gonna make sure you get patched up, alright? No more funky hero business til’ then, yeah? Can you stand?”

Steve gave him a minute nod, and Bucky answered another of his own, wild and frantic as he tightened his grip on Steve slightly. “Alright. I’m gonna need you to stand up for me, Stevie, do you think you can do that?”

Another nod, and Bucky let out a small breath against his ear. “Alright, alright. Up you go, big guy, c’mon,”

Steve let out a grunt when the gaping holes in his chest seemed to stretch further apart, the one between the juncture of his neck and his shoulder was gushing out more blood that it splattered a little on Bucky’s jacket. Bucky spared it a glance. “You’re doing great, Steve. We just have to bring you to Jimmy and he’ll pick all those lil’ assholes outta you like daisies popping out during spring, okay? You just need to hold on.”

“Yeah, Buck, yeah,” Steve managed to gasp out, stumbling after him as they jogged out of their hiding spot and into the broken road.

“Hey, hey, I said none of the yappin’,” Bucky scolded, and that made Steve wheeze out a bout of laughter until he was hacking out a blob of red spit to the side. Bucky audibly swallowed. “What did I just _say?_ ”

Everything was a blur around them until Steve found himself laying down on the ground again, the earth a hard thing on his back. Blinking away the haze, he caught himself meeting the terrified gaze of a small boy some distance away from where he was, until Bucky was in his sights again and was staring down at him with wide eyes.

Steve offered him a small smile. “You don’t look so good, Buck.”

Bucky scoffed, leaning forward until they were face-to-face, the lines on the corner of his lips pulled down. “You talk a lot for someone who has half dozen bullets on him.”

Steve reached out blindly to touch his hand. “Can’t have you worrying ‘bout me, s’all.”

“I told you,” Bucky stressed out, grabbing onto that hand so tightly that if it broke, Steve wouldn’t mind. Not when he wanted to chase away the worry weighing heavily in that look. “You’re going to be _fine_ , Steve. You’re going to be _okay_.”

“I believe you,” Steve sighed, black spots floating in front of his eyes that it took a couple of pats to the cheek to will them away. When he looked up, Bucky had gone white as sheet.

“Stay with me, Steve,” he croaked out, and even then, his voice sounded faint. Steve swallowed through the heavy liquid in his throat, and Bucky had his hand on his cheek, palm dirty with blood from where it had been putting pressure near his neck. “I need you to stay awake, alright? I need you awake when Jimmy fixes you up—“

“Sarge—“ Morita came by his side, arms full of bandages and bottles and few other things Steve was too tired to identify, eyes falling close.

“—and I need you awake after he’s done with you,” Bucky continued, clutching onto his face. “I need you _awake_ , Steve. I need you—“

“Sarge, I need to treat him—“

“ _Morita—_ “

Steve didn’t know what Bucky snarled out next, didn’t know what kind of words that were used on him before Bucky was forcefully dragged away from his side while the rest of the Howlies tried to hold him down.

_Sarge, I need you to calm down. Let Morita do his work, he knows what he’s doing. Cap can get through this, we all know he’s able to survive this, and you’re gonna help both of them by giving them some space._

_Sarge— Barnes, if you get in the way, Morita won’t be able to do his fucking job, and we don’t want that at all. We don’t want this to be a shitshow. Barnes, we do_ not _want this to be a shitshow._

_Barnes, please, for the love of God—_

_He’ll be fine— Barnes—_ Christ—

Hands were already tugging onto his uniform, exposing Steve to the cool air and the muffled sounds of guns. There was a sharp intake of breath, and someone was quickly ushering the civilians away from his body and Bucky’s rage as he planted himself by his side, their teammates giving up as Morita worked on him. Bucky was talking again, quieter this time, calling for him, and Steve was letting darkness enveloped his conscience fully.

* * *

At night, the town was freezing.

Later into the day, everything settled down into a quiet hum that hung contently above their shoulders. The Howling Commandos helped what they could with the injured and the town alike; it was dusting away the counters and uprighting the tables. Clearing rubble from doorways. Making sure electricity was going smoothly so that they can turn on the heaters.

A few hours after the sounds of gunshot dispersed, people were running around and tending to their abandoned homes, already bringing out what supplies they had in order to help those who got theirs destroyed. They even helped Steve’s men, something he insisted not to worry about since their neighbours needed it more than they did.

They ignored him. It may have to do with how they were eyeing his heavily bandaged shoulder and thigh, but the food was made and Steve and his men were given a place to rest in one of the still standing inns.

It had to be around midnight from how the moon shone so brightly in the dark skies. The pub across the street was alive with warm lights and the clatter of the people, some of them spilling outside after they dragged out some chairs and tables to enjoy the cool night with alcohol in their hands, someone’s radio turned on to some music as it travelled down the road.

A family was dancing along with the song, their grins wide as they swing in each others arms that had children tinkling with laughter, delight a sweet thing to experience after what they had gone through the day before. A couple of Steve’s men joined in the fun and danced with the locals that took their offered hand, chatting it up with a smile or a twirl of their feet.

Steve watched this with a whimsical smile from where he leaned against the surface of the rocky fence, one that once separated between roads, with a cup of hot coffee to fend against the cold air while being wrapped up in his jacket. He was glad that he was able to experience this. The other times they had to take down Hydra factories, the nearby towns that suffered were long evacuated that they looked almost haunted. Seeing this one bursting with life again was a sight for sore eyes.

He was taking a sip of his beverage when he saw Bucky coming out of the pub with a push of the door. He was already bundled up with his own jacket, a scarf around his neck that it almost covered his mouth. Steve watched his gaze sweep over the clearing before they landed on him, and Bucky was walking towards his way.

Bucky greeted him with a raise of his canteen, joining his wall with a soft huff before he took a swing. “You’re avoiding parties again.”

“I’m not avoiding parties,” Steve retaliated, accepting the offered canteen by switching it with his coffee. “I’m enjoying the feeling of being alive after getting shot.”

The warm beer would do nothing to him but he enjoyed it going down his throat nonetheless. Steve smacked his lips. For some reason, it was nicer than the ones they had but it could be just him.

“By being alone in the middle of some town?” Bucky asked. “Instead of spending it with the rest of us?”

“You’re here.” Steve shot back.

“Because I was trying to find _you_.” Bucky snorted. Then, he nodded towards the small crowd. “Not planning on joining them?”

Steve shrugged. “Thought of just watching them. It’s nice.”

“Wow.” The flat tone made Steve look at Bucky, who was watching the people instead. “You got more boring that I’m upset on your behalf, Stevie. Has my dragging you to parties not stick in your head at all?”

“I’m not _boring_.”

“Uh huh. Sure. Maybe that’s because you’re just old.”

“If you’re so concerned about me being a wallflower, why don’t you just join them?”

Bucky shot him a wild look. “How does that even make any sense? You’d still only just stand here and brood like you’re some vampire waiting to strike some poor helpless soul who’s stupid enough to wonder around in the middle of the night alone.”

Steve laughed. “Are you suggesting you’re the poor helpless soul I’m waiting to strike?”

When Bucky grinned, it was all teeth. “You wish, pal.”

They both snapped their heads up when the door to the pub burst open, spilling the rest of their unit from where they were linked by the arms, causing a ruckus with their stumbling while Dugan was singing out to his heart’s content.

“At least he’s enjoying himself,” Bucky muttered, but his eyes sparkled when he finished off Steve’s coffee.

Falsworth dumped Dugan on one of the vacant chairs that cluttered near the stereo, and Dugan almost toppled back from the force of his drop that Morita snapped out his hand and pushed him back to proper ground, much to the amusement of the locals as they watched Dugan trying not to spill more rum on his clothes.

It didn’t bother Dugan in any way as he continued his hearty number, drunk and loud, all while making little effort in synchronising it with the music that was played.

Dernier said something that was too far away to hear, but it did make Dugan flip him off while he held onto a low note, his mustache quivering from effort while he maintained eye contact with the Frenchman throughout the whole stretch.

Steve let out a small laugh, realising with a small pang that he missed them, their camaraderie that existed for the next couple years until it abruptly ended in 1945.

He let his thumb run against the edge of the canteen. The Howling Commandos were honourable men, the Smithsonian was sure to capture that as much as they could, but not in the way Steve would have wanted. It would tell everyone about how they would help Captain America take out Hydra’s hideouts, one by one until his last breath. It would talk about their background, brief and just enough.

They didn’t know what kind of bond that was made then. They didn’t know that Steve had looked at his friends and decided they were all worth dying for too.

It wasn’t until Steve stumbled on this documentary they made years after he dropped off the face of the earth. He remembered how his heart clenched when he saw their faces again, knowing that only a week before, he had gone through their files and stared at how the red ink of those stamps had seeped into their documents as if they were going to jump out.

“Oh, Rogers’ a piece of shit, don’t let all that gold, red, white, and blue fool your lil’ heads,” Gabe chuckled back in the late 80s, face wrinkled with age while one eye was clouded with blindness. “Got the heart of a goddamn saint though. With everything he did, wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up in the front of the pearly gates, ya know?”

“Barnes wasn’t any better,” Falsworth said, chewing on the side of his cheek to hold back a smile. “Rogers was the brain on most stupid ideas, but Barnes had his fair share too. They were inseparable, sure, and we had jackshit on opinions when it came to orders because they were Captain and Sergeant, so we learned to roll and duck like they did. But,” he grinned, wide and toothy. “It was one of the best times I’ve got the honour of experiencing.”

“I mean,” Gabe would add. “Cap once made sunny side ups in that shield of his ‘cause Dum Dum dared him to, and that bastard did exactly _that_. Fed the whole damn team with it too, Christ.”

Steve had laughed out loud, wet and choking as he wiped his tears with the heel of his palms, historians droning on the rest of their memories. He remembered the heavy weight lifting from his shoulders, how he went into deep sleep that night for the first time since he woke up in the 21st century.

He burned the documentary in a CD despite the numerous streaming websites. He let it perched with the rest of his DVDs of his favourite movies under his TV back in his old apartment in DC. It was probably kept in his storage boxes when he was still on the run.

The music changed into something more uplifting, all bright sunny days and ice lemonade, and Steve noticed the way Bucky was tapping his foot with the beat, gaze still on the people as they began to dance.

Steve set aside the canteen between them, pulling Bucky’s attention to the gesture before Steve straightened himself up.

Bucky’s eyes widened when Steve offered his hand, foot halting its movements.

“Come on,” Steve consoled when Bucky only stared at his offered palm, as if it was going to shift into a creature with teeth and eat him. “Dance with me.”

Bucky snapped his eyes up, brows furrowing. “Steve—“

“Just once,” Steve promised, but then, Bucky stole a look at the crowd. “I don’t care, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“What I’m worried about is how we could get reported,” Bucky told him dryly. “Fraternising with the Captain. Ain’t that a headline.”

“Hardly fraternising when we’re only dancing.” Steve pointed out, fingers wiggling.

Bucky laughed, but it felt forced. “C’mon Steve, I’m an unmated Omega. They don’t care if it’s dancing. They’d want an excuse to kick my ass off the field if they can and this is one perfect opportunity to not snatch up.”

“And who’s gonna report us? Them?” Steve tilted his head towards the Howlies and the people, and Bucky only stared back at him. “They don’t care too. They know what we are.”

“And what are we?”

The question felt loaded, and when Steve only met his hardened look, he knew that this was going to be complicated. But, he’d make it work. Damn it, he’d make it _work._

“We’re best friends dancing in the middle of this small town,” Steve started, causing Bucky to drop his gaze to his outstretched hand. “And we’re doing it when the time’s right ‘cause there’s no way in hell a promise of a ‘next time’ will even happen when everything seems to blow up earlier than we usually anticipated.”

Bucky shook his head, almost in disbelief. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We don’t even have to go over there, dancing here is just fine.”

“Very considerate,” Bucky quipped, but he was slipping his hand into Steve’s, and he couldn’t stop the smile from taking over as he hauled Bucky off the fence.

After putting the cup on the ground, the current music ended into another that was softer, trumpets and violins filling in the air that from what Steve saw across the road, partners collapsed into each other in relief after swinging their way around, laughter puffing out in little clouds of ecstasy.

“Typical,” Bucky grouched, glaring at the radio as if it kicked his head. “Just when we’re about to dance.”

“Oh c’mon, we used to do it all the time for practice when we were kids,” Steve said, grinning when Bucky used the same look on him. “It’ll be fun.”

“That’s because I had to teach you the proper ways of courting or you’d never learn,” Bucky reminded him as he let himself be pulled into Steve’s embrace, rearranging his limbs to grasp onto his shoulders while Steve slid his hands to his hips. “And you keep tramplin’ on my toes like a goddamn elephant.”

“I was learning.”

“It still hurt.”

“I did say I was sorry, Buck.”

Standing so close to him now, Steve was able to smell Bucky’s scent, and the world around them seemed blurred a little more as his senses honed onto the sweet smell, with the heat of his touch that could be felt through his jacket. It was nice, and no one was stepping on anyone else’s toes to ruin it.

“Tell me about the future.”

Steve let his eyes roam over the slope of his nose, watching Bucky watch him. “What do you want to know?”

“What it offered you when you got there,” Bucky replied, his grip on him loosened when music merely became white noises compared to this world they dipped into. “I wanna know what you learned.”

Everything was bigger, more diverse. Transportation. Food. Communication. People. It was having a little bit of everything in your hand because people had a smartphone with them all the time. They would be able to know what they wanted to know by only typing out what they were thinking of. It was having faster cars, taller buildings, extravagant machines. It was a sci-fi novel came to life sometimes, and that included aliens as well.

It was learning new words, new experiences. It was wonderful, but also a little overwhelming because inflation and capitalism, to Steve’s disgust, made a cup of coffee cost five bucks and the size of it was smaller than his own damn palm. But food can be delivered to your house now whenever you ordered online —“Wi-Fi! Jesus, Buck, it’s a blessing _and_ a curse.”— so it made Steve’s life so much easier whenever he got back from a long mission and was just not in the mood to go out again.

Unfortunately, the past got repeated and now the future was having monsters for leaders while they all set their ways to have the people be crushed under the sole of their freshly waxed black shoes. 

“God,” Bucky breathed, clearly trying to soak everything all at once from how gobsmacked he looked. Steve thought it was cute. “There are still _Nazis?_ What the _fuck_.”

“We’re still fighting, though,” Steve said, twirling them around to the third song. “Some clown got egged, another got thrown with a milkshake. I liked the ones who straight up threw a punch when they were in the middle of an interview. _That_ had been entertainment. I wish I was there to see it for myself.”

“And they got _jailed_ for that? What the _fuck._ ”

“Assault, apparently.”

“Their whole damn existence is an assault to the world, cry me a fucking river.”

“Mmhm. To them, it’s more of a criminal offence to not serve their fancy coffee with that _exact_ amount of caramel than it is to stuff other people in cages.”

Bucky fumed. “I’ll fly to the future and stuff my feet up their _asses_.”

Steve missed this. Steve missed having Bucky with him, just to talk to him like they always did that being comfortable with him came so easily. 

Bucky had his hands tucked by his sides, chasing the warmth Steve gave out while the old scarf he made several years before was tucked loosely near his chin.

Steve remembered this one. Bucky had been bored out of his mind during the time he had been looking for a job, his old one gone after the boss of the company had downright stolen from it for personal gain. It was already hard for him to get one in the first place when people thought Omegas were more suitable staying at home and be submissive towards their big, strong Alphas.

That wasn’t the case for them. Steve and Bucky were roommates who used every dime they earned to pay rent and live actual lives instead of suffering in it. Steve’s commissions were alright, but they weren’t going to depend on it forever.

While waiting several places to contact him back, Bucky dug out some needles and yarn Winifred Barnes had shoved into his hands before he moved out with Steve, sat on their mattress, and got to work.

It turned out nicely. After the fifth time of unravelling and reknitting and cursing throughout the whole two weeks.

Steve had watched, enraptured, and had a few drawings of him hunched over his work all over his sketchbook.

Steve wanted what they had now last longer than what would be clearly possible. Steve wanted to be in this cocoon of warmth with Bucky again, wanted to pull him into the very centre of his chest and keep him there. Safe. No one would try to hurt him, Steve would damn well make sure of it.

Bucky, of course, while he would appreciate the notion, would kick his ass if Steve coddled him too much.

But _this_ , where they were dancing and getting to know each other again as people from different parts of thread of time, had Steve thinking whether telling Bucky the truth would be a good idea.

“It’s snowing.” Bucky marvelled, tilting his head to the skies that Steve automatically followed suit.

Specks of white snow fluttered down, soft and unassuming as it could be. It brought out the excited squeals of the children, all the other adults murmuring out their surprise as they lifted their faces up as well.

Dugan, who had stopped his singing a song ago, leaned against his chair and watched the dotted skies with a small smile quirked up on his lips. The rest of the Howlies joined him, either sitting down and were standing by his shoulder.

Steve found himself unable to look away from Bucky again, seeing the world in the shine of those eyes as they took in all the wonders of what was offered. It was having his mouth parted in silent amazement, small puffs of white clouds escaping with each breath. It was having the stark contrast of his dark jacket when it was sprinkled with snowflakes that he was a canvas of his own.

Bucky probably felt his look when he let his own flicker towards Steve.

There was no helping in being discreet, not when Bucky was looking at him as if he found what Steve had always been feeling for him on his face, clear as day, and he didn’t know what to do with it.

“Steve?” Bucky said quietly.

Steve hadn’t realised he moved one of his hands until Bucky sucked in a breath; his cheek was cold, Steve dimly realised, when the back of his fingers brushed against his skin, his day old stubble.

Bucky had clutched onto the lapels of his jacket then, gaze wide when Steve trailed his fingers to the edge of his jaw.

“Remember when I said that you’ll always be my constant?” Steve murmured. “It’s true.”

“You say that,” Bucky said, almost breathless. “But I don’t know what it means.”

“It means exactly what it means.” Steve palmed his cheek properly, resting his forehead on his. “Wanna have you with me always.”

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky implored, knuckles white from how he was still desperately holding onto him. “What are you doing to me, kid? You’re really gonna leave me standing here stupid by saying things like that?”

“It’s the truth.”

“That’s one hell of a truth, buddy,” Bucky chuckled. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you,” Steve confessed, causing Bucky to shut his eyes in helpless defeat. “Bucky— good god, I want _you_.”

“You can’t say that,” Bucky pleaded hoarsely. “Please, you can’t say that.”

“Why not?” Steve almost demanded, both hands now holding onto his face that Bucky snapped his eyes open again. “It’s always been the truth. I’ve been wanting you when we were kids, and I want you to be with me now.”

Bucky inhaled deeply, trying to compose himself, before he let out a soft groan. “God, your scent is killing me. Can’t believe I missed it so damn much.”

Steve leaned back to look at him, heart thundering in his ears. “I can help you with that.”

Bucky quickly caught on when the spike of interest hit Steve in the nose, abrupt and quick before the oozing warmth that came next settled between them. 

In fact, Steve was pretty sure he was getting warmer when Bucky stole a look at the occupied crowd with a nervous lick of his lips. When he met Steve’s gaze again, his pupils were dilated with unconcealed excitement.

“You sure about this?” He whispered, uncertainty still prickling through.

“Only if you want it.” Steve insisted.

Bucky let out a small bout of laughter, leaning up to brush his nose against his temple. “Well, come on Stevie, we don’t have all day.”

Grinning, Steve wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled them towards the inn they were staying. It was a five minute walk from the pub, but they could cut that in half from how hurried they were, buzzing with the same energy of teenagers on their first bonding experience.

They got in and almost sprinted up to the next floor, boots thudding against the wooden stairs. Bucky had pulled out his key to unlock their door, and Steve couldn’t stop himself from stepping into his space with his arms still around him, pressing a kiss behind his ear.

Bucky’s hand stuttered against the lock. “Stevie,” he admonished quietly.

“Can’t help that you always smell so good,” Steve said against his skin, and Bucky groaned.

“You’re killing me,” he mumbled, finally swinging the door open before Bucky swivelled around in his hold. His breath was so warm over his lips. “You’d be the death of me, Steve Rogers, and my Ma’s gonna be on your ass about it.”

“Of course she would, you’re her only Omega child,” Steve said, taking a step forward that Bucky was forced to take a step back, right until they were slowly moving into the room. “‘Sides, she’d probably be glad I finally made my move.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“That I was subconsciously courting you with all those sweets and chocolate whenever you had your heats as a teenager.”

The door slammed behind him before Bucky was pushing him against it. “They were from _you?_ My Ma said they were from other Alphas!”

“Well,” Steve began lightly, using his palm to tilt Bucky’s chin up, baring his throat. “I wasn’t gonna _say_ , I lost my wits before you could get out of the bedroom that I told her to say they’re not from me before I left.”

From this angle, something had darkened considerably in Bucky’s eyes at the easy display of power Steve emitted. Arousal bloomed in his gut when Bucky licked his lips. “They had to be expensive.”

“I saved up,” Steve told him, taking in his pink lips. “Dreaming that all of that would eventually allow me to do this.”

When Steve swooped down to take him for a kiss, Bucky gasped against his mouth, and Steve knew he liked it whenever he did this; kissing Bucky as if their lives were on the line and they were going to use good time in making sure they didn’t waste it.

The sharp spike of burnt sugar filling in his nostrils had Steve moaning softly as he ran his hands down the length of his back, grabbing onto his ass and hauling Bucky near. Bucky had his fingers buried into arms, one that was meant to bruise, his kisses biting and filthy when he licked onto the roof of his mouth.

Steve hissed when Bucky slipped his knee between his legs, rubbing against his hardened dick through the thick cloth of his suit with slow but firm strokes, giving Steve another nip of his teeth.

“If you stayed a little longer, I might’ve jumped on you,” Bucky told him against his jaw. “Even if the heat broke out, I think the leftovers would still be there.”

He exhaled sharply when Steve only pulled him closer against his thigh, to the point that Bucky was riding it from how he was still teasing Steve.

“Don’t think your Ma would appreciate us doin’ it in the middle of the kitchen.” Steve pointed out, pulling the scarf and jacket away.

Bucky pushed his off as well, letting it drop to the floor. “Please don’t talk ‘bout my mother when you’re about to put your cock in my ass.”

Steve groaned, squeezing said ass with a roll of his hips, causing Bucky to choke out a breath when their crotches were rubbed together. “Fuck, Bucky.”

“That’s the idea, honey,” Bucky bit out, breathing heavily. “Get on with the program.”

Steve dragged his hands to his thighs and picked him up. Bucky immediately looped his arms around his neck and wrapped his legs around his waist, kissing Steve with teeth and tongue with his hands buried in his hair.

Steve set Bucky down the mattress none to gently, not letting each other go that he fell down with him and kept kissing him, feeling the way Bucky was pushing himself against Steve more.

But it wasn’t enough. Since they were still in standard military uniform, everything was a little more convenient with the padding when you were going to march headfirst into war. It wasn’t helping when the heat scorched under his skin but they were still awfully clothed.

“Sweetheart, I need you out of this if we’re gonna do anything,” Steve tugged onto the band of his pants.

“God,” Bucky groaned, but he was withdrawing his arms to plant a hand on Steve’s chest and pushed him back. And then, he was unbuttoning his shirt, fingers frantic, and Steve followed suit as he quickly unclasped his buckles.

“Hurry,” Bucky urged, shucking his pants off his legs that the wave of his scent smacked Steve full in the face, making him stumble from where he was taking off his boots that made him snap his head up to look at the bed.

The sight of Bucky, naked after he threw his socks over the side of the bed, had his breath taken away from the view.

Steve had let the fire running in the hearth before he left the room earlier, hoping it’d be warm when they were going to turn in so that they wouldn’t freeze in their sleep. Now, whatever light it gave out had caught the shine of Bucky’s slick running down the insides of his thighs and how hard his dick was against his hip. His chest moved with every breath he took, and he was so beautiful against the white sheets that Steve felt his chest contract at the sight of him.

Dropping his pants, Steve bent down and dropped a kiss onto his knee, slithering up the body underneath him as he made sure to kiss his way through the expanse of skin offered to him oh so willingly.

“Stevie,” Bucky breathed, eyes wide.

Bucky held onto his shoulder when Steve pressed another onto the jut of his hip bone, deliberately ignoring his erection to land one above his belly button, before dragging his lips up his chest and catching the eager kiss Bucky was already giving him halfway, kissing him deeply and surely before slipping his tongue between his lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve said, dragging his hands down his sides that Bucky writhed at his touch, squeezing his thighs. “So beautiful.”

“Steve, c’mon,” Bucky pushed his chest against him, needy. “You’re taking fuckin’ forever.”

Steve gave him a hard kiss. “And you’re complaining.”

“Damn right I am,” Bucky swore against his mouth. Steve gasped when Bucky reached down and held his dick, giving him an obstinate swipe against the head of his cock with his thumb. “It’s kinda rude you’re sticking this out and not doin’ anything about it, Stevie.”

Steve grabbed both of his wrists and tugged them above his head with one hand, smirking down at Bucky when he looked startled at the sudden change. “And you’re being a brat about it, sweetheart, so I don’t think I can give you anything when you’re like this. Too bad you’re already so wet.”

His free fingers were already rubbing against Bucky’s entrance as Steve said this, releasing more slick as Bucky moaned. “You’re fuckin’ cruel, Rogers.”

“You only say that ‘cause you’re so fuckin’ impatient.” Steve slipped a finger in the tight ring of muscle, causing Bucky to throw his head back with a choked out moan at the breach.

Bucky gasped out a laugh, pushing onto Steve’s finger. “You can honestly do so much better than that.”

“Oh, I know,” Steve teased, catching his lips with a searing kiss at the same time he added another finger into him, taking his time in pumping them in and out. “But you’re so pretty like this that I think we shouldn’t move much.”

When he crooked his fingers, Bucky bit his lip to the point skin almost broke, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallowed down an obvious whine. “Please,” he choked out, rolling his head to the side until his glands were exposed, where the sweet smell of him was potent there too. “ _Stevie_.”

Steve kissed under his jaw, fucking Bucky with three fingers now as he brought his lips down the length of his neck and across his collarbones instead of touching those glands. It was twisting his wrist and spreading his fingers, the sounds filthy and loud and had Bucky throwing himself into his chest with a whine until Steve felt it to his toes.

Whatever it was Bucky was doing then, either or not taunting him with how he was acting so desperate underneath him even when Steve had only fingered him open, was driving him nuts.

“Sweetheart,” Steve whispered, slipping them out that Bucky groaned. “I need you to turn around for me.”

The moment Steve let go of his wrists, Bucky flipped onto his stomach. His ass was in the air, knees apart, his back curving from how he was pressing his forehead into his arms.

Representing. Steve reached out and parted one cheek with his hand, watched a trail of his slick rolled down the inside of his thigh, and thought how he was going to eat this man alive.

He looked up when Bucky shifted in place, looking over his shoulder with those eyes of his, the blues disappearing altogether when he saw the way Steve was currently taking him in; it was shameless, the want so high that he could taste it on his tongue.

Steve held his hip, before sliding it up the dip of his back to the space between his shoulder blades. Bucky shuddered from the touch, head dropping down again as Steve climbed behind him to press his lips across his shoulders, an arm wrapping around his chest.

He pressed another kiss to his ear. “You ready?” 

Bucky picked his head up to brush his cheek against his. “Yeah.”

Steve slowly guided his cock into his entrance, pushing in that warmth immediately caught him, tight and wet and Steve rained more kisses onto his shoulders as Bucky moaned. Steve bottomed out, lips not staying still as they touched every stretch of skin they could find while Bucky tried to catch his breath, accommodating to his girth with a roll of his hips.

“Steve,” Bucky croaked out, pushing back. “ _Move._ ”

That was all he needed when Steve pulled out until the head of his cock was only inside of him, before he thrusted back in that Bucky let out a gasp, and it was downfall from there when all it did was ignite the fire in his chest.

Steve pulled back again only to snap back in, earning a soft whimper from Bucky as Steve set a pace for him to commit into, fucking him into the mattress with his face buried into the back of his neck, murmuring assurances for his ears only.

This was the man Steve had fallen in love with since the age of sixteen, when he was young and decidedly full of confusion and frustration as he watched Bucky punch the red bag with fists and feet. Because by then, Steve had his stomach fluttering with a need he didn’t know he would feel towards his best friend, who was sweaty and beautiful under the fluorescent lights and he wanted to lick the droplets off his neck.

This was the man who Steve had wanted to be with when he found Bucky sitting at their dining table with that day’s morning paper, pencil in hand as he solved a crossword puzzle, his hair still wet from his shower. 

It was Steve putting a cup of coffee in front of him and Bucky giving him a soft smile in thanks.

It was watching Bucky stumbling into their apartment one night with obvious marks around his neck but never on his scent glands, disheveled and spent, the smell coming off him had Steve biting back a growl at another Alpha’s stank on him.

It was hurting in a way he never thought he would feel as Steve merely watched from the sides when he wasn’t sure of what they have.

Steve fucked Bucky harder, holding onto his waist and pushing him down that had Bucky answering back, meeting his thrusts toe for toe that the bed squeaked from their efforts. And Bucky was making small noises past his lips when Steve buried himself deeper, hips slapping against the back of his thighs.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” Steve panted, running his hand down his chest before enveloping his hand around his dick, causing Bucky to gurgle out a curse from the oversensitivity. “So fucking good, Jesus Christ.”

“Steve, Steve,” Bucky blabbered when Steve flitted up the length of his dick with his fingers, his arms quivering from where he was holding himself up. “Steve, _please_. If you keep doing that—”

“You think you can come now, Buck?” Steve pressed his thumb over his slit, and Bucky fell to one elbow with a choked out grunt. “Think you can do that for me?”

Bucky didn't even bother to righten up himself when he stayed where he was, a panting mess with his forehead against the mattress. Steve had to slide his hand up and cup his chin, tilting his face so that he could see him. 

“Sweetheart,” Steve murmured. “I need you to come for me. Do you think you can do that?”

He rolled his hips to punctuate his point until Bucky moaned. 

“Yes, _yes_.”

Bucky pushed himself up to his hand that Steve let go of his face to run his palm down his torso, taking hold of his dick again to stroke it.

“Go ahead,” Steve jerked him off, making it in tandem with his thrusts, Bucky trying to catch up. “You’re doing amazing. My Omega, you’re so beautiful—“

“ _Fuck,”_ Bucky sobbed, spilling all over Steve’s fist as he continued to move his hand over his cock with agonisingly tender strokes instead of his earlier enthusiasm, milking it all out as if to wring him dry.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Bucky repeated coarsely, collapsing face first into the sheets once his arms couldn’t hold himself up anymore. 

Steve pressed a long kiss onto the jutted wing of his arm. “You did so well. Thank you, honey.”

Then, he wiped the mess off his palm onto the blankets before he put his palm onto his sternum, hauling him up that caused Bucky to cry out.

Steve let him slump against his chest once he sat down properly, running his hand up and down his arm as Bucky caught his breath, dick still stuffed in him. “You don’t have to do anything, alright? Just relax.”

“As if,” Bucky croaked out, prompting a snort from Steve as his hands hooked onto the back of his knees. “You’re still hard, and you haven’t used your knot on me. We’re not done yet for me to relax.”

Steve hummed, easily lifting him up before dropping him on his dick that Bucky was whimpering again.

“God, warn a guy next time,” Bucky grumbled, wiggling his ass on his cock that Steve tightened his grip with a stutter.

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Steve, however, did what he did again, and Bucky didn’t even cover the need to moan his pleasure out and was even louder than before. He reached back and wrapped an arm around his neck, holding on tight.

It was using him like a toy, fast and quick, and Steve knew the new angle was driving Bucky up the roof. It was hitting all the right spots while the post orgasm haze was still fresh, and Bucky was powerless to do anything else other than let his knees be pushed to his chest when Steve fucked him with all his strength. They were both sweating, exerted as Steve slid Bucky on and off his dick until he could feel his knot grew.

“Buck, I’m gonna knot,” he grunted out, feeling it expand with each thrust as the friction it gave out grew as seconds passed. It almost caught onto the rim of his entrance that Bucky groaned against it, back arching.

“ _Do it_ ,” he gritted out, turning his head to try catch his lips into a kiss. “Alpha, _please_ , I need it so much—“

Steve widened his stance and fucked into Bucky once more, jolting them both before his knot finally locked into him fully as Steve latched his teeth onto his nape, careful to avoid his glands as he came into him, filling him up with each pulsing moment.

It pulled another orgasm from Bucky as he mewled weakly against his hold, come splattering against his stomach from where he was still suspended in Steve’s grip, unable to do anything else other than pushing an open mouth kiss into the side of his head.

Panting, Steve groaned and rubbed his face against Bucky’s shoulder, slowly putting down his legs in order to not hurt him. It was wrapping his arms around his chest before he was carefully letting them lie down on their sides, exhausted.

The room was quiet for a while, the fire crackling from it place and the falling snow from outside the window accompanying them. Steve could feel his sweat drying up already, the smell of sex strong in their room. 

He leaned back a bit to look at the bond mark; he didn’t even bite too hard, but it was unmistakably _there_ if Bucky was going to let his collar open again, a show to anyone who might take interest. Steve supposed it wasn’t exactly a bonding mark when it didn’t sit on Bucky’s scent glands, but the fact that they fucked and knotted was, well.

It was goddamn amazing and Steve missed _that_ too.

He pressed a soft kiss onto the mark, and Bucky tried to look at him when he craned his neck.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Steve smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Bucky stared at him through the corner of his eye, before he huffed out a breath and faced forward again, burrowing himself into Steve’s embrace for warmth. “Christ.”

Steve rubbed his nose against his glands, scenting him as he tightened his hug. “Mmhm.”

“I can’t believe we did that.”

“Yep.”

“And we only did it _now_ , when we could’ve done it all those years ago.”

“I know,” Steve said warmly, pressing a kiss at the corner of his jaw.

Bucky sighed. “We could’ve helped each other with our cycles.”

Steve hummed sympathetically, remembering how redundant it was for Bucky when he was suffering from cramps and fevers. “We were idiots.”

“Still are.”

“Can’t really argue with that.” Steve pressed another kiss onto his neck. “Take a nap, Bucky, this is going to take a while.”

Bucky laced his fingers through his from where it rested on his stomach. “Wake me up later?”

Steve squeezed his fingers. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t usually do this because it makes me feel icky sometimes but do leave a comment if you like it! I wanna hear all about what you think!


	4. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Remember when we put ice cubes in our shirts?” Bucky chuckled. “Or how you dunked ‘em in the bathtub and you just soaked yourself in it for a while?”
> 
> “The ice melted before I could do anything ‘cause the water was too warm,” Steve said, shaking his head at the memory of their small bathroom, of that chipped tile at one corner of the wall. There were times when he thought the rest of it would fall on their heads. “But, it turned colder after all that ice, so I was pretty glad to not sweat like a pig for a while.”
> 
> “You finished off the ice until I couldn’t put any in my drinks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slaps on another tier for this cake. Being taller is always sexy.
> 
> Surprise, this isn’t the last chapter! I’ll be doing an epilogue after this so this fic will instead be 4 parts + epilogue instead of just 4 parts. By the way, I have no idea how boxing works but I searched some things and I hope I executed it well enough. Again, here’s also to hoping the time travelling make sense because it sure as hell didn’t in endgame. 
> 
> I paraphrased it, but if you guys could find a The Song of Achilles reference I did on Steve... *eye emojis*
> 
> Enjoy!

“So, I woke up this morning,” Dugan began, stabbing some scrambled eggs and bacon with his fork. “Had a hangover that could’ve killed me in my sleep, my throat felt like someone used it on a cheese grater—“

“You did a lot of singing yesterday.” Falsworth said as he tore at his bread.

“—and was washing myself up when I almost killed myself against the shower head.” Dugan shovelled his pile into his mouth, his other hand pressed against his chest. “Because, get this, either I’m too tall for their showers or the shower heads are too short for me, but some tiny dingus screamed into my ear while I was half-asleep that I was pretty sure the intent was to make sure I _stay_ dead.”

“Tiny… dingus,” Dernier echoed dubiously, and Steve and the rest of the Howlies were staring at Dugan as well, who was already stabbing into more eggs even when his mouth was still full while nodding vigorously.

“Did you encounter some sprites, Dum Dum?” Gabe asked, smiling against the brim of his cup. “Crossed into a ring of mushrooms and angered the little gods with your stomping?”

“Little devils more like,” Bucky muttered, slapping some marmalade onto his bread.

It was still early morning, the sun hardly up when the skies were a converge of dark purples and pinks, street lights still lit up. But the town was already awake, people walking down the roads with hammers and bags in hand as some set to work on people’s houses, company vans chugging into their respective driveways. Some shops were wide open, and Steve had followed his nose to one diner at the corner of the street, stomach gurgling at the smell of food as he sludged through the thin layer of overnight snow.

When he woke up this morning, Bucky was still asleep, lying down on his stomach while both his arms were buried into his pillow. His hair was a disarray against his face, lashes casting a shadow against his cheeks with the blankets bunched around his neck. 

He was beautiful and Steve was already feeling the stir of interest deep in his gut as he leaned forward to press a kiss onto his shoulder, tugging down the covers for better access. It was pressing another onto his nape, soft and merely grazing, hands dragging down his sides until Bucky was groaning awake.

Bucky blinked, and watched Steve over his shoulder through squinted eyes when Steve landed another kiss near his armpit, demanding why the hell did he woke him up, they had another hour til’ they were supposed to get ready, Steve. Why would you even consider leaving bed early now, Steve, it’s too cold.

Steve, of course, was still drunk from their late night fucking to actually respond with words when he had just slipped his fingers between Bucky’s ass cheeks to roll one around his entrance. Bucky was already moaning softly, head dropping into his pillow again when Steve pressed a kiss onto the dip of his hip, his ass, before prying them apart to lick a broad stripe onto his hole that Bucky choked on his own tongue.

Their second round may have used up more time than he realised, but Steve rolled out of bed with his beard burns all over Bucky’s thighs and some nail marks on his own shoulders, feeling absolutely awake even before he hit the showers. 

Now, the seven of them were cramped around a table by the corner of the diner, the surface filled with plates full of greasy strips of bacon and fluffy eggs, some toast, and mugs of coffee to go around. It was a full house, since most of Steve’s men were there and some locals were having their breakfast as well, chatting it up through the day.

“If I found any sprites, I wouldn’t even be here,” Dugan snorted. Steve only watched the way he kept pressing a hand to his chest, and how he seemed a little padded more than usual in his jacket. “They’d steal me and take me to some jacked up place with probably a whole bunch of weed, and I’d be rolling in them til’ I’d see the fairy queen.”

“Sprites do weed?” Falsworth wondered out loud.

“Sure they would, if they wanna make sure their victims fall flat on their faces without the violence. It’s a bunch of hocus pocus, y’know?” Dugan took another bite of his food. “As I was saying, the small dingus tried to kill me by screaming himself to death. Guess where he is now.”

Everyone slowly straightened up in their seats; clearly, the thought of something small and bastardy being anywhere near them all after it tried to kill Dugan in the bathroom was something to look out for. 

Steve let his gaze flicker to Dugan’s hand. “Is it in there?”

Dugan grinned, tugging down his jacket to reveal a small white kitten nestled comfortably against his chest. It unhinged its jaw and yawned widely, before it gave them all a side-eye look of dissatisfaction after being rudely woken up from its nap.

“That’s just adorable,” Bucky commented, already reaching forward to rub the kitten’s forehead with a finger. The kitten closed its eyes in content, seemingly falling sleeping again. “Where was he anyway?”

“He was standing on the small window of the bathroom above my head,” Dugan told him, waving a small piece of bacon by the kitten’s nose that it snapped its eyes back open again. It used its mouth to tug the bacon from his fingers and ate it. “It was wet and dirty so I just got it in and gave it a warm shower to feel better, because I sure as hell understand the feeling of being smacked with snow.”

“You just,” Morita waved in their general direction. “Took a shower with the cat.”

“He’s very well-behaved.” Dugan told him seriously, scratching the kitten’s chin. “Didn’t even attack me when I soaped him off. We’ve become best friends for the last hour.”

Morita let out a hum. “What’s his name then?”

Dugan shrugged. “I didn’t think of it yet. So far, I’ve been calling him Dingus Cat after he scared the shit out of me.”

Steve pressed his lips together to prevent a smile from growing too wide. “You named him Dingus Cat?”

“Dingus, to be exact.” Dugan cooed softly at the kitten, giving it another piece of bacon that it happily chowed down on. “Right, Dingus? You’re a good cat, right?”

“One day, someone’s gonna remind him that he used to call a cat Dingus and feed it bacon in his jacket, but won’t admit it because we don’t have any proof.” Gabe made a show of looking around the diner. “Anyone here know anyone who has a camera? I need it.”

The kitten gave a small chirp that melted Dugan’s heart more, who smiled and fed it again before giving its forehead more scratches. Steve was able to hear the purr it gave out from where he was sitting on the opposite side of the table, making a perfect impersonation of his bike.

Steve tried not to wince. Colonel Phillips was going to kick his ass for destroying this one and Steve knew it was going to cost him later. Not that he minded charging it now that he knew he was getting paid, but all the same, it was a nice bike — one that had won them fights when Steve had to use himself as a distraction while the others infiltrated the Hydra facilities.

Bucky nudged him with his elbow. “You alright?”

“Just remembered I threw my bike into a tank yesterday,” Steve told him, hands wrapped around his cup of coffee. “I can already feel the look Colonel Phillips would be giving me later.”

Bucky chuckled. “Oh man.”

“Yeah,” Steve replied with a smile, taking a sip. “I think at this point, he’s gonna confiscate any more vehicles being sent to me later. This is, what, the second time? Bike’s aren’t that cheap.”

“With the way you’re doing it, it’s not.” Bucky leaned against his chair, and their thighs touched underneath the table. “Just because it’s at your disposal, doesn’t mean you can toss it around the way you always do with your shield like it’s some kind of weapon. C’mon, Steve, seriously.”

“It’s not my fault the tank was gonna shoot at us and I didn’t have anything else to stop it with.”

“Your _shield_.”

“I was driving.” Steve defended himself.

“I know damn well you could throw and drive,” Bucky scoffed into his coffee. “I’ve seen it myself, the others saw it too. So, don’t bullshit yourself out of this.”

“It was a _tank_. I wasn’t sure throwing my shield would do the trick when they were gonna shoot at us the next second. Throwing something that was easily combustible was the best bet.”

Bucky arched an eyebrow. “ _Best_ bet?”

Steve stared him down. “Absolutely.”

Bucky only met it unrelentingly. “You’re a madman, Rogers.”

Steve felt his mouth twist into a smile. “Not the first time someone said something like that.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised when I’ve lived with you half of my life. Not that I’d hold it against you or anything.” Bucky tapped Steve’s boot with his, but he was watching how Dingus was licking the grease off Dugan’s fingers, who had hearts in his eyes that stretched to his small wrinkles littering at the corners. “Think he’d be able to bring Dingus Cat up the ship?”

“Dunno about that,” Steve admitted, tapping back. “If Dugan could hide it for the whole time we’re on it, then he’s all clear.”

“You’re alright with that?”

“I don’t see it much of a problem.”

“You gotta admit it is kinda cute. People can’t be that heartless in not letting some scrawny animal stay with them for a while.”

Steve smiled fondly at him. “That’s what worries you, huh?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s just something to think about, y’know?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Steve looked at the kitten again, who was now out of Dugan’s jacket was gently being cradled in his arms, clearly enjoying the attention from how it still had his eyes closed. “Well, guess the body count is different now.”

Their journey back to London was uneventful as it could be. They had several days to themselves on the ship, the sea stretching far and wide to the edge of the earth that nothing else had been in their sights than the occasional birds or, at one time, some flying fish. The view wasn’t helping the growing melancholy that seemed to settle on the deck; the sun wasn’t coming out, and the water looked cold and dark enough for it to almost look black.

One of the good things that Steve had prayed his thanks for was how he wasn’t sea sick; the serum probably helped, since that seemed to be the only explanation when he saw two men hurling over the edge after a while on the journey, faces green and miserable while they pulled their coats tighter around themselves and made their way around to sit at one corner.

Some of them handled the journey well enough, helping what they could and spent the rest of their time packed at one spot to talk. There were card games and boisterous laughter in the late nights, exchanging stories and sharing meals with the crew. Dugan even showed everyone the new picture of himself and Dingus, retelling his story with the pride of a newly-made father.

Everyone would play around with Dingus as they waved a short strand of rope at it, who clearly accepted the additional company with delighted shouts of exclamation the moment it poked its head out of Dugan’s jacket. There would always be someone who would give Dingus treats or cuddles that Steve was pretty sure the cat was spoiled at this point. He even saw it running around the clearing before someone scooped it up to give it a kiss.

Steve had just gotten out of a meeting with Captain Johnson, tugging on his jacket when the breeze nipped on his nose as he walked out of the bridge to make his way to the deck. Several people were huddled around to play gin rummy at one side, with Dernier and Morita joining in, while others were around the ship, keeping watch. Steve zeroed on Bucky, who was at the sides with a bottle of beer held loosely in hand as he stared into the sea.

Standing beside him then, Steve noticed a family of dolphins passing their way, jumping in and out of the water as they swam further down, leaving them all behind as both Steve and Bucky watched them off.

Steve let his arm pressed against his. “Never thought it’d be this cold at sea.”

“Probably a wrong time to go to the beach now, huh?” Bucky wondered, subtly leaning into his warmth. The others didn’t know what they did, after all. They haven’t even talked about their situation to do anything in public. “I wish I could say I miss the summer, but then I remembered how we were dying in our apartment before,” he gestured generally in front of him. “Y’know.”

Before the war. Before Steve found Bucky standing in their kitchen with documents in his hand, jaw tight, and he was looking at Steve with controlled calm that it made him stop in his tracks. When Bucky slid the documents across the table, it took Steve far too long to realise that the determination that burned in those eyes was actually a front to cover how terrified Bucky was.

Talking him out of enlisting didn’t help. Steve wasn’t going to plead him to stay, not when Bucky wouldn’t appreciate in listening to how he _had_ to stay home, he _had_ to be here in their apartment safe, where nothing could harm him. Steve couldn’t handle the thought of allowing Bucky to walk into a disaster that could end his life, but he wasn’t going to tell Bucky to stop doing what he wanted to do.

“Yeah,” Steve said, humouring themselves. “I guess the cold would be better than the heat. If you’re cold, at least you’d be able to wrap yourself up. The heat’s just gonna cook you alive even when you’re naked.”

“Remember when we put ice cubes in our shirts?” Bucky chuckled. “Or how you dunked ‘em in the bathtub and you just soaked yourself in it for a while?”

“The ice melted before I could do anything ‘cause the water was too warm,” Steve said, shaking his head at the memory of their small bathroom, of that chipped tile at one corner of the wall. There were times when he thought the rest of it would fall on their heads. “But, it turned colder after all that ice, so I was pretty glad to not sweat like a pig for a while.”

“You finished off the ice until I couldn’t put any in my drinks.”

“Hey, I made some more after that.”

“Yeah, but I had to wait for another four hours before I could get some of it again.”

Steve smiled. “You were pretty grouchy about that.”

“It wasn’t my fault someone decided to hog all the ice when the heat’s been killing me too,” Bucky rolled his eyes, taking a gulp of his drink. “You can’t blame me for something you did.”

“That’s rich when _you_ hog all the blankets,” Steve laughed, nudging him in the elbow. “I mean, I don’t need it as much sometimes, but it got cold in the middle of the night, y’know?”

“It’s involuntary,” Bucky said smoothly. “Couldn’t exactly control the things I do when I’m too knocked out into dreamland, but,” He shot Steve a smirk. “I guess _you_ helped with that too.”

“That’s just an excuse for you to have the blankets to yourself,” Steve complained, but he leaned closer, a smile curling around his lips. “Next time, we’re _sharing_.”

Bucky let his gaze roamed over his face, as if he was searching for something, and Steve could feel the lighthearted teasing fading with the way Bucky had turned a little solemn over a minute. “There wouldn’t exactly be a next time for us.”

Steve held his look for a while, before he reared back slightly so that they could breathe. “Technically, there would still be a you and me. Only it won’t exactly be me.”

Bucky nodded a bit. “Do you think it would work?” He asked, voice quiet enough that it was only for them. “The time machine Stark made? Because while the concept had been cool in books, the thought of it actually happening makes it a little surreal.”

“I talked to both Howard and Peggy the other day and they said it was done, but they needed to test it first.” Steve watched how Bucky looked away, head hanging between his shoulders. “They were hoping to get it started the moment we arrive HQ later, but that’s assuming it would work the way we want it to be.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Bucky asked, tracing his thumb against the mouth of the bottle. “Is there goin’ to be a plan B in all of this?”

Steve took a breath, looking into the dark waves of the ocean. “I’m just hoping it does work, but if it doesn’t? We’d have to keep trying, unless there was another way for me to get back to my time. Otherwise, I’ll be stayin’ here a lil’ longer.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” Bucky looked at him again, a small smile making an appearance. “As nice as it was that you’re here, the future needs you more there.”

“And do you?”

Bucky blinked. “Do I what?”

“Ever needed me,” Steve elaborated, watching him. “Should I stay here with you?”

“You have a mate,” Bucky reminded him, his smile tightening around the edges. “You can’t leave them there just to stay with me. I’d kick your ass on their behalf.”

It felt like Steve was punched in the chest, because how in absolute fuckery had he forgotten that Bucky didn’t know that _he_ was his mate? Somewhere along those hours of kissing this Bucky like he always did, Steve had automatically settled into the familiar feeling of having _Bucky_ with him again that in Steve’s mind, they already became one person.

It wasn’t fair to this Bucky. This Bucky, who had showed how much he actually loved Steve Rogers as much as Steve loved him, needed _this_ timeline’s Steve, right in 1943.

The only problem was that 1943 Steve Rogers needed closure on that topic. Both he and Bucky had to go through their own emotional labour that Steve was guilty for Bucky. Steve had stolen 1943 Steve Rogers’ chance, and Bucky was going through the price because of it.

Steve took a breath. “Bucky—“

“You know this was just a one time thing between us,” Bucky cut him off before he finished the rest of his drink. He bodily faced Steve then, expression unreadable. “That this was just a quick fuck. That we needed time to steam off after being shot in the nut sacks and almost died from it.”

“You’re more than just a quick fuck,” Steve told him, heavy disappointment weighing in his chest that Bucky would just think that was what they were; something disposable. “You mean too much to me for you to be less of anything I’d think of you.”

“You’re in a committed relationship with someone else, Steve, there’s no way in hell you’re gonna abandon them when they need you most.” Bucky leaned forward so that they were almost nose to nose, his expression hard. “Don’t be like me. You swear on God’s name that you’re not gonna be like me.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this.” Steve clasped a hand onto his shoulder before Bucky could move away, keeping him in place. It broke Steve to even listen to Bucky consider himself that heinous. “You’re not a bad person for going off to protect your country, Buck. You know damn well you’re just doing your duty.” 

“True,” Bucky admitted, tone cynically light. “But, I left you behind when you didn’t want me to.”

“I’ve never said that to you.” Steve claimed earnestly.

“It’s how you retaliate to it.” Bucky cocked his head to the side. “According to the Army, there were four people from four different places who coincidentally wore the name Steve Rogers after I went off to shoot people’s eyes out. They all got 4F’s. Wonder what they would think when they put two and two together the moment they found your photo.”

“Buck.” Steve slid his hand higher to hold onto his neck. Screw what the others saw and thought. “You’re my one constant. You have been since we were scrappin’ our knees on the pavement.”

“You keep fuckin’ saying that, Stevie,” Bucky hissed out, and he was clutching onto his wrist, bright pools of blue devastated. “You keep saying that, but I’d be dead eighty years into the future and you’d find someone else. I don’t even know if you live that long because of that concoction Erskine gave you or some other fuckery I don’t understand.”

Steve held his face then, pressing their foreheads together until their breaths mingled, hot and steady. “I can’t tell you more than what could kill you,” he began quietly. “I don’t know what would happen if you knew more ‘bout me than you should but what I said is _true_.” He brushed his thumb under his eye, just at the curve of his cheek bone. “There’s no other way to it. At least, understand _this._ ”

“What does your mate feel about you still having feelings for some dead guy?” Bucky murmured. “Don’t know ‘bout him, but I wouldn’t want you to have some other pal in your mind when I’m standing right here. The concept of bonding meant eternity, so the thought of another fella in my place?” He let out a short bark of laughter. “I’d go insane, sweetheart, there’s no other way to _that_.”

“He knows,” Steve said thickly, ball rolling in his throat at the first sentence. “He’s forgiven you.”

It was true. Bucky, worn and a little softer than he was when Steve found him in Sokovia, had forgiven with the fact that he was harsh to himself in this time — 1943 and the war still raging on around them. Perhaps he couldn’t hold the same kind of kindness for what he did as the Winter Soldier, but Bucky saw another part of himself in the small picture and decided then and there he was a new person now, and this person in the picture was an old friend he’d meet again once in a while.

“That just says he was mad at me in the first place, but I don’t blame him.” Bucky rubbed their foreheads together, looking tired. “Christ. We really are a mess.”

Steve smiled weakly. “Who we’d be if we were anything else?”

“At peace, mostly.” Bucky answered sourly. He leaned back, mouth tightening. “You’re gonna go back, and you’re gonna stay there. There’s a reason why you didn’t bite me here.”

He touched his collared covered scent glands. Steve let out a small breath. “That’s not my place.”

“I guess not,” Bucky dropped his hand. “The other you, my Steve, and I are gonna have a talk about this. A long one.”

“He’s not much different from me when it comes to you,” Steve pressed himself against him again, seeking comfort in his touch as much as he was with warmth as he leaned against the railing. “But, he’s still stupid thinking you’re emotionally unavailable for him, so he needs a lil’ push.”

“It’s kinda weird you’re talking about yourself in third person,” Bucky joked wryly. “Especially when you’re callin’ yourself out.”

“Just taking the chance to drag my own ass through the mud.” Steve crossed his arms tighter to himself. “I don’t know if this would help, but I know things would’ve gone a lot easier between you and him if both of you got this ball rolling now, so much so that you’d actually have some nice memories to go through instead of the what-ifs. I know I would. I just want you to have that too.”

“Yeah.” Bucky gnawed on his bottom lip. “If it’s any reconciliation to you, I’d do it the moment he comes back.”

Steve let out a huff of laughter. “This is for you. I don’t have an opinion on what would make you happy.”

“That’s because you’re the cause of it.” Bucky searched his face, as if he was looking for something, and there wasn’t anything Steve could do but stay still under this scrutinisation, something he was happy to deliver. “I loved you since I understood what that meant whenever I was with you, and I gotta be honest; it scared the living hell out of me because you were so much more than I could ever reach up to.”

“You stole the words right outta my mouth,” Steve marvelled quietly, causing Bucky to flush and looked down at his empty bottle. “If there’s anything I would’ve wanted for the rest of my life, it’s you and this.”

It was reaching out and cupping his face, tilting his head towards his way, and Bucky was looking at him with such an intensity that had Steve thinking of those nights where the stars burned brighter during the summer and both of them had been naming what little constellations that shone through.

It was the time when Steve couldn’t tear his gaze away from him while Bucky went through the stars excitedly, pointing out what the city was allowing them to see, a smile stretched wide on his face. Steve had wanted to capture him on paper, the whole presence of it all, but he also didn’t want to detach himself from this feeling.

“It’s always you,” Steve vowed. “And this.”

* * *

Back in London, Steve and Bucky made sure all of their belongings were settled in the room they were given before they left for the place that kept the machine, where Steve agreed to meet both Peggy and Howard the moment news announced their arrival. It was late evening then, and they didn’t have any trouble running into anyone that would’ve stalled them for pleasantries after Steve had to give a brief report to Colonel Phillips back at the SSR headquarters.

Once he was done, both Steve and Bucky were surprised to see Jarvis waiting for them outside in one of Howard’s cars.

The butler gave them a nod. “Captain Rogers. Sergeant Barnes. I’ll be escorting you to the party Mr. Stark has conducted for you at his home. Before we leave, is there anything that you might need?”

“A party.” Bucky echoed with slight distrust.

“No, Jarvis,” Steve said, giving him a polite smile. “Thanks for this.”

“My pleasure, Captain Rogers. And I suggest the sirs to take your luggage with you, because Mr. Stark insists that you stay in his place for the time being.”

The secrecy of this project had forced Howard to make the time machine in one of his summer houses outside town, to throw off any noses that might be sniffing around their space, especially the SSR and the government itself. Steve found himself in Norwich when the bungalow came into view, the tall black gates swinging open for them to roll in. Jarvis drove them to the entrance, where Steve and Bucky got out and walked through the doors once Jarvis told them Howard and Peggy were already waiting for them in his workshop.

“Christ,” Bucky muttered, gaze trailing up the long spiral staircase that led to the first floor. “Feels like I’m in a display room than a house.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Steve eyed the large fish tank that separated the living room and the patio. If he was going to compare Howard’s choice of furniture with Tony’s, Steve would say they were similar in having the latest versions of the decade. 

“I don’t think I could ever get used to this kind of luxury,” Bucky admitted. “I feel like I’m walking on eggshells right now.”

Steve chuckled. The first time he found out he was going to have his own floor at the Avengers Tower, he felt like he was in the middle of a field from how vast the rooms were. Sure, there were furniture and some paintings that looked like it cost more than his bike, but it was so painfully _empty_ that he went to the general floor where they all would hang out sometimes and slept there for the first week since he moved in.

They took the stairs down and pushed the door open. What they found was a smaller version of the SSR’s own workshop, but even more cluttered as several things were piled on tables before they were walking deeper down; there was another small flight of stairs before they entered another room, where Howard and Peggy were talking in low tones at the other end of the room.

Howard saw them first and waved them over, Peggy turning around to greet them. “Finally! I was wondering where you were.”

The time machine unravelled into view as Steve and Bucky walked over. It was huge, with two arches that stood twenty feet that they almost resembled a circle while large tubes of wires trailed behind to plug itself to some sort of power bank that took up most of the wall. Steve paused, staring at it. “Is that even safe?”

“Perfectly, don’t worry about it.” Howard was squashed between the machine and the power supply, tinkering behind it. “Help yourself to some beer, and there’s sandwiches on,” He waved his hand generally. “The counter probably, I don’t know. But, this baby is ready to go in another ten seconds, so let me just—”

Peggy nodded at they joined her against one of the tables. “Steve. Barnes.”

“Peggy,” Steve greeted back at the same time Bucky said, “Ma’am.”

“Right!” Howard shuffled out from his tight space and went to the controllers, flicking on some switches. “It should be easy, and straightforward. Hopefully.”

“You _did_ test it, right?” Bucky studied the machine apprehensively. “With actual living things, I mean.”

“Sure,” Howard replied cheerfully, hands busy. “We did it with a rat.”

“Did it work?” Steve asked. “Did it come back when you wanted it to?”

“It did,” Peggy said, but her mouth had tightened considerably. “Only it wasn’t what we expected.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It was the same rat, and we brought it back five seconds after we transported it ten years into the future. The rat’s heat levels and heartbeat was fine when the process was still ongoing, everything was close to perfect. But, the moment we brought it back,” Peggy squared her shoulders. “It was dead.”

“Son of a bitch.” Bucky muttered, wide eyes snapping to Steve, whose spine had straightened into something rod-like. “Pardon my language, but are you telling me Steve might not survive the trip back to his time? That he’s gonna kaput sometime on the way?”

“One way to put it.” Howard agreed.

“That’s the thing,” Peggy crossed her arms. “We don’t know whether the rat died when it was making its journey to the future, or when it was coming back to our time. There’s no hand from that side to take our baton after we passed it. We couldn’t make any analysis that said anyone was able to withstand the journey, or it was just because the rat couldn’t handle it. Obviously, we weren’t going to test on humans next after that happened. It held too much risk.”

Steve rubbed the side of his face. “What now?”

“I’ve been tweaking it and finding what I could to make it slightly more unkillable than last time,” Howard said, finally turning around to look at them. “If I’m right, this would work. But, to keep it safe, Mousey here is gonna help us be our guiding light.”

He reached over to the side of the controllers and pulled up a small cage that held a white mouse. Steve felt sick as he looked at it.

They got to work; they made sure the mouse wore the bracelet that would bring it back to 1943 around its body, one that Steve was going to put on himself when all would be well. Howard set the cage on the platform before he rushed towards the controllers.

It was flipping the switches and hearing the way the machine hummed to life. Howard checked the condition of both rat and machine, before he nodded to himself in satisfaction. “Ready to go when you are, Cap.”

Steve watched the way the mouse cleaned its face with its paws. “Do it.”

Howard pressed a few more buttons before tugging down a lever; the arches lit up with a blinding white light that had them protecting their eyes with their hands. A plasma-like glow surrounded the arches, a purple and neon coloured thing, and the static it gave out was making the air above his clothes feel sharper than usual.

A streak of light shot out and hit the mouse. The next second, it disappeared, leaving the cage behind.

“Count down now,” Stark said, looking over his shoulder and towards the platform. “Five.”

“Four.”

Steve liked to think the goosebumps on his arms were from the static in the air.

“Three.”

He wasn’t so sure.

“Two.”

“One.”

Howard pressed onto a button, and the arches glowed bright before it shot onto the cage again. The mouse came back, a white ball of a thing that made Steve release his held breath.

Unable to stay still, Steve went forward and stopped beside the cage, peering down at the small body in it.

It wasn’t moving. Its mouth was frozen opened.

“Did it work?” Bucky asked.

Steve pursed his lips, picking up the cage and showed them the limp body.

Bucky took a step back. “Christ.”

Howard groaned, rubbing his forehead. “I was hoping this one would be alive, _at least_.”

“This is Test Number 12,” Peggy stated grimly. Steve went over and set the cage on one of the empty tables, careful in preventing the dead mouse from jostling too much. “The closest we got from all of this was when Number 8 was breathing for approximately twenty-two seconds before it died.” She worried on her bottom lip. “Logically, we’d try something bigger. A cat, or a dog, just to compare the durability on each animal. But, we don’t want that.”

“I’m not big on testing anymore animals than necessary, sorry,” Howard said in a clipped tone, making his way towards the table next to theirs to have a look at the spread out blueprints. “I’ll have to go through this again. Feel free to stay.”

“You haven’t slept for forty-four hours, Stark,” she told him, brows furrowing. “It’d be better if you get some rest, we’ll deal with this tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing, I’d really deal with it now when I have an idea of what I think could work.” Howard waved at Steve’s direction, not even looking up as he corrected something with a pencil. “If anyone needs rest, it’s him. And maybe with Barnes, since they both slept together already.”

Steve tensed, stealing a look at Bucky, who had gone very still beside him that the panic was palpable on the forced neutrality on his face.

The stretched silence made Howard arch his eyebrows, and he met Steve’s look from across the room. “I hope that wasn’t supposed to be a secret. I could smell you two from a mile away. Carter was only too polite to point it out that I took the initiative of acknowledging the elephant in the room.”

The heat of Peggy’s glower intermingled with Steve’s embarrassment of being so caught up in his worry that he forgot to spray on some cologne before they arrived. He and Bucky had held each other before they left their room back in London, weary and grateful, wanting to have the warmth of their touch for just a moment more. Steve had rubbed his face against his shoulder, scenting him, a balm to his sore heart.

“Yeah, well,” Bucky began, slipping his hands into his pants pockets. “Not everything has to be spit out.”

Howard let out a guffaw of laughter, shaking his head. “Sarge, if you want it to be known, just let it _known_.”

“He doesn’t know the concept of subtlety.” Steve pressed his fingers into his closed eyes.

Howard shrugged. “What’s there to hide?”

Jarvis came by then, informing Howard of a call that needed his attention, and the speaker was adamant of wanting his presence this instant.

Howard frowned, glancing at his wrist watch. “It’s eleven twenty. Who the hell calls someone at this time?”

“That would be the Chairman to the oil industry, sir.”

“Right, of course.” Howard waved them all off, pencil still in hand. “I’ll see you kids later while I’ll go handle some adult stuff. Breakfast is at nine, don’t be late.”

The next second, he was gone, leaving the three of them with leftovers of their quiet horror after Howard’s capability to stick his fingers into people’s business. It was, perhaps, to a certain extent that Steve was sure his life was a complete cutout of a monkey dancing on a tricycle. Uncle Sam’s hat and umbrella and all.

Just as well. He got thrown back in time with no straight way of going home, after all.

Steve dropped his hand, defeated. “Are you staying here, Peggy?”

“No, no. The paperwork that’s piling on my desk is monstrous and I need to get it done as soon as I can. When that’s finished, there’s a chance I’ll be joining you both on the field.” Peggy smiled light-heartedly. “And congratulations would be in order. You’ll be delighted to know we all support your need to _ta mére et ton pére_.”

Bucky flushed red and looked away, while Steve was stammering out, “Oh, uh, it’s not what you think—“

“I’ll see you tomorrow at London, most likely after breakfast to hear about your full report with Colonel Phillips.” She waved, making her way out of the room.

Bucky covered his face with a hand. “God would’ve strike me down and still have mercy on me.”

“That’s just wistful thinking.” Steve sighed, decidedly exhausted.

Bucky grunted unhappily. “It would. Maybe, it’d be better that way.”

The things they go through, honestly.

“God should give me a hot tub and Spotify.” Steve muttered airily.

Bucky peered at him through his fingers. “What?”

Steve planted a kiss on his forehead. “Nothing.”

* * *

Days ticked by, but the machine still hacked out the same results; the mice piled up to Test Number 32, and they were either dead the moment Howard got them back or were twitching for as long as a minute before it went limp in its cage. Steve was getting anxious, treading the floor thin with his pacing as the thought of Thanos causing more destruction kept invading his mind.

Even if months have passed to where he was now, Steve had no idea if it was the same for the future. Was it linear, the time that drifted through the hours? Was it moving like the one he was currently in or had it stopped the moment he got out? Would he come back to find that the world had cracked opened under Thanos’ demented power?

There were so many things running through his mind that the unpleasant air Steve subconsciously let out made most people steer around him when he walked by; if he didn’t know better, he probably stank of agitation and frustration. It felt as if his bones were going to jump out of his skin, and the people near him had no idea how to handle an uneasy Alpha of one Captain America.

He felt guilty about that. He dove into what work the SSR would give him, planning routes to lead them into more Hydra bases they recently discovered and attending meetings that allowed him to suggest ideas of an effective winning on their part. All the distraction took most of the worry off his mind, but sometimes it wasn’t enough.

The gym, however, offered a helping hand.

It was located at the edge of London, somewhere between a bar and a flower shop that it took a moment for Steve to realise what it was the first time he passed by the place. A sign was flipped to say it was opened, and he walked down the short flight of stairs before pushing the door open.

Next thing he knew, he was making a deal with the owner to let him use the place for a couple of hours after midnight. The owner, Ed —a man who wore different coloured socks and had a crooked nose— told him to hide the key between the plates of the small window above the door. Steve paid him a little extra than the usual fees, thankful that this man trusted him enough to leave the place to him.

Steve had to remind himself that the punching bags they had wasn’t the same as the ones S.H.I.E.L.D. had modified for him. The ones the gym owned were old-fashioned red leather that smelled of dried sweat and the stale smell of lavender air freshener mingled together. If some nights were rougher than others, he would lift some weights to the heaviest to chase away some of the relentless aggravation before hitting the bags.

It helped; sweat would soak his shirt in minutes and the strung of energy underneath his skin loosened up after an hour. He’d hardly feel exhausted after venting himself out, but the exhilaration of pushing himself to his limits had his muscles experiencing the good kind of burn — his body would hum in quiet satisfaction that falling asleep was easier when his mind was too tired to think.

The punching bag shuddered with every hit of his fists, a gramophone playing one of the songs Ed had in his collection, and Steve had a fun time scanning through his options when he bent down in front of the small shelf.

One-two-three. _Jab-Cross-Left hook._

They were supposed to go back to the field in another week. It would only be the Howling Commandos this time. 

One-two-three. _Jab-Cross-Left hook._

That prospect itself was already terrifying.

One-two-three. One-two-three.

One.

Two.

Three—

“What did it ever do to you?”

Steve reached out and stopped the swinging punching bag, turning to the direction of the voice and promptly had his breath coagulating in his throat at the sight of Bucky walking towards him. Steve, in all his hundred and one years of existing, could never really get over looking at Bucky without wanting to touch him. And seeing him wear a tank top instead of his uniform had Steve feeling warmer than what was strictly healthy when he was still working out.

Bucky was wrapping his knuckles with tape, and it was efficient and clean as opposed to how Steve’s tape was already falling off his hands. He tugged it around his fists again, making sure it was secure. “How did you find me?”

“You’d think you’d notice when your bed sharer slips in the room late.” When Bucky lifted his head, it was having his _can it_ look aimed at him. “So, I got up and followed you to this place. And,” he knocked on the punching bag with a knuckle. “I understand the appeal.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow. “So, you stalked me.”

“I _followed_ you, there’s a difference.”

“I locked the door.”

Bucky allowed a smile to curl around his lips. “It’s not like you to be this sloppy, doll. You didn’t even hear me get in.”

“You stalked me,” Steve repeated petulantly. “Waited for me to unlock the door, and just walked in after I put the key back.”

Bucky stared at him in an assessing way, his face carefully clear of any indication to what he was feeling. “I can leave, if you want.”

“No, no, it’s just,” Steve took a breath, running his hand through his hair. “I’m just mad at myself for not paying much attention, shows how deep I was in the mess hitting around my head.”

“I can help with that.” Bucky tilted his head towards the direction of the boxing ring, and dejá vu rammed Steve full in his chest that he had to grind his heel into the floor from staggering back. “Up for a round or two?”

With the way his eyes were sparkling with unconcealed delight, it was clear the reference wasn’t something Bucky simply dropped.

“You know I would. But,” Steve gave him a sweet smile as he brushed by him. “I don’t think you’d be so eager to eat dirt again after the first time.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Bucky told his back, laughter apparent.

“I know,” Steve agreed cheerfully, climbing into the ring as Bucky did the same thing.

Bucky rolled his eyes, stretching his arms to his front and pulling his fingers to the back. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Stevie. That kind of talk could get your ass kicked before you could cry ‘uncle’.”

“Yeah, well, what’s knew, huh?”

“By God, _definitely_ not this.” Bucky went into position, and there was no stopping the excitement in the hard beat of his heart as Steve followed suit. Bucky gave him a wink. “After you.”

When Steve shot out his fist, Bucky jerked to the right to avoid his jab and immediately answered with two hits to his ribs. He kept his arms tight to himself, so sure and on alert, before Bucky was swinging his fists again that Steve took the spit-second opening to duck and hit him with a side-hook of his own. 

It was falling into this kind of routine again with such ease, his body familiar with these steps that brought him to this dance they both accumulated from experience and teachings throughout the years; it was shaking the stiff routine so many have followed, cracking the stone with their own hammer — it was a bastardised version of the traditional ways of hitting your opponent and it was brutal, true, and it was _theirs_.

People would’ve been scandalised to see how effective Bucky was able to use Steve’s outstretched arm to hoist himself over his shoulders with a languid sweep of his legs, brought him down the floor with a loud slam that echoed against the walls, and then Bucky was prancing off him to give him space.

“Damn,” Steve grunted, his back aching as he pushed himself up. “Almost forgot about that dirty trick.”

Bucky eyed him from his corner. “You’re really not feeling it today, huh?”

Steve waved it off, rolling his shoulders. “C’mon hotshot boxer, what else you got?”

Bucky gave him another long look that made the electricity above his nape charged more restlessness than Steve would like. He charged forward until Bucky held up his arms to shield his impact, head low, teeth gritted from the effort of going against the blow of those hits.

Air was starting to feel harder to take in and his muscles were beginning to protest from all the hard work Steve was doing against Bucky’s resilient block. Steve switched his tactic by going by the book; one-two-five-two. _Jab-Cross-Left uppercut-Cross._

Bucky widened his eyes when it almost broke away his shield — the left hit Steve landed on him staggered him enough to let his arms down a bit, enough for Steve to finish the sequence.

But Bucky ducked so low and quick against the swing of his right fist that Steve heard air whistling between them, the momentum of the hit slashing through the air and nothing else. It was getting bowled over with a pair of arms wrapped around his middle, his breath knocked out of him, before he was rammed against the ropes until they vibrated from the force of their collision.

Steve blinked, scurrying to the side until Bucky crashed into the same he once was. Steve scrambled back to the middle of the platform, chest heaving, hair falling to his eyes.

Bucky flipped himself around and charged at him again.

Steve was the one on defense now, and it took a lot of energy to block against Bucky’s flurry of attacks, before his fist sacked him under his jaw and Steve felt his head snapped up from the force. He barely managed to keep his vision from swimming too much, his eyeballs still vibrating from the impact, before he was thrown to the ground again.

It was hard and vicious and Steve loved every moment of it.

He choked out a bout of laughter, simply letting himself accept the thin canvas underneath his body and how the lights were a little too bright from where it shone above their heads, trying to suck in all the air that seemed to be robbed out of him during the whole session. Bucky looked at him strangely from where he was holding him down with his weight, his legs on either side of his torso and a hand pressed on one shoulder. He was breathing just as heavily while sweat threatened to drop from his chin.

Steve wanted to drag his tongue against that cleft.

He let out a snort, sagging against floor. “I’d wave a white flag but I’m too tied up.”

“You were the one who wanted to take my teeth out,” Bucky huffed, clearly miffed. “I’m not your upgraded punching bag, Stevie, what the hell.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Steve sighed, feeling the adrenaline seeping fast out of his body. Now, he was aching all over. “Should’ve hold myself back more so that I didn’t hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.” Bucky leaned back and settled properly on his abdomen, hands resting on his chest. The little drop of sweat fell onto his own chest that focusing on the next of his words proved to be a challenge for Steve. “I mean, you punched harder than usual but you know you can go a lil’ rough on me. It’s not like I’m gonna break under one punch, c’mon buddy.”

Steve let his hands rest on his thighs, smirking. “Yeah, I know that from experience.”

Interest gleamed back in those eyes at the same moment something sharp spiked in the air, mingling together with the leftovers of their hustling until it hung heavily above them. Bucky slid his hands up his chest, causing Steve to hum in content when those fingers rake through his mop of damp hair that he was sure would be pretty gross. Not that they ever minded; not after what he thought earlier.

Bucky pushed back his hair and did nothing else, letting Steve ran his hands up and down his thighs. Steve could’ve sleep right then and there if he didn’t want him so much, if he didn’t want to touch him and put him in his chest and the thing was— the thing was, Bucky knew that too. Knew that and only kept petting his hair.

Well, he’d have to change that, wouldn’t he?

Steve dragged his thumbs over the bulge of those thighs before he hooked his hands over the back of his legs, just under the crease of his ass, and gave them a hard squeeze that had Bucky squeaking out in surprise.

Fingers tangled on his hair and yanked his head back, allowing the world to see the pleased smile on Steve’s lips while Bucky glared down at him. Steve gave him another squeeze, fingers now following the shape of his ass that had Bucky squirming in his grip, gasping softly when they wandered near the centre of his heat.

“Steve,” Bucky forced out, mouth hovering over his. “You’re a fuckin’ menace. We can’t do it here.”

“Sure we can,” Steve rebutted easily, grabbing his ass properly now and kneading them full with his hands. “We can clean up before we go back. I’m pretty sure I saw an air freshener on the vinyl cabinet to spray the smell away.”

“Wow, you really thought this through.” Bucky dropped a kiss onto the end of his jaw, a hint of teeth against his skin. “Were you just waiting for me to walk in this place so that we’d have sex in the boxing ring?”

“I thought we’d do it in the showers actually, but now that you said it, I don’t mind it either.”

Steve turned his head and caught Bucky in a heated kiss, shoving his tongue pass his lips to have a taste, eager just as he was needy until Bucky was moaning into his mouth and messing up his hair more with his grabbing. 

Steve let one of his hands trail between Bucky’s legs and let his fingers press into the heat just waiting to swallow his cock, wanting the small noises Bucky was making as he rolled his hips into his hand more.

“You’re gonna kill me if you keep doin’ that, Jesus Christ,” Bucky panted, his biting kisses getting frantic when Steve kept touching him. He moaned again when two fingers were pressing firmly against him. “ _Fuck_. I need to ride you, Steve, c’mon.”

“Oh fuck,” Steve breathed out as Bucky shimmered down, grinding against his tented pants until white stars burst in front of his eyes and Steve slumped back with a heartfelt groan. Bucky laughed, breathless and positively joyful as he did it again because being the cause of his melted brain was a sport he’d play. “Oh God, _Bucky_.”

“You’re so easy,” Bucky teased, reaching back to grab onto his cock that Steve let out a small wheeze. “I would’ve done this a long time ago if it’ll make you all worked up.”

Steve shot up and wrapped his arms around his waist, hauling Bucky close until they were chest to chest, their cocks trapped between each other. Bucky held onto his biceps out of surprise, wide eyes looking down at him from where he was propped on his lap.

It was mentally tracing the slant of his nose. The shape of his plump lips. How they were parted. Steve didn’t know when he got so lucky but this man here had him around his pinky and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Steve let his lips grazed over his, teasing, fingers tracing the band of his pants. “Need you to take this off.”

Bucky inhaled sharply, nodding. “Yeah, yeah. I was gonna—“

“Really?” Steve hummed, running his hands up the slope of his back that the tank top went along, Bucky arching into him more with a sigh. “‘Cause you’ve been running your mouth and doin’ nothing so I’m assuming—“

“You’re nuts,” Bucky claimed, shucking the tank top off completely. “Completely, batshit nuts. Didn’t I just said I wanted to ride you?”

Steve pressed his mouth onto one broad shoulder. “Yeah, well—“

He was interrupted when Bucky rolled his hips, insistent and deliberate, and Steve bit into his skin in warning.

“You’re gonna kill me one day,” he growled, already popping open his buttons that Bucky let out another bark of laughter.

Steve reached up to kiss him again, tugging his pants down below his knees while Bucky was already wrenching his fly open with quick hands. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart,” Steve groaned, fingers sliding against his thighs, already streaming with his own slick that Bucky shuddered from the sudden exposure of the cold air. He was so wet, so wet and smelled so good. Steve followed the trail up, swiping up the crack of his ass and over his entrance that had Bucky gasping, trying to chase the friction by rutting on Steve’s lap through the restricted space his pants provided from where it was still tangled around his knees.

Bucky threw it to the side clumsily, shoes getting caught in the mix, not caring where they dropped. “ _Steve_ ,” he whined, tugging on the opened lapels of _his_ pants. “Come on. _Please_.”

“Need you to get up first,” Steve told him, burying his face into his collarbone and inhaling deeply. “Just for a second, baby, that’s it—“

It was shoving his pants low enough to pull out his dick because while having a naked Omega panting on his lap was one reason, it was because if Steve didn’t get this and his shirt off soon he might actually die from heat stroke when all the blood was pulsing around his body. It was ridiculous, but everything felt too hot all of a sudden and it wasn’t helping the situation.

Bucky was clawing the shirt off for him, throwing it somewhere to his right for both of them to actually care. He ran his hands over his chest to feel the expansion of skin, and the view was equally excellent from Steve’s side because here was Bucky shamelessly groping him from where he was slightly bent over, his ass hovering merely an inch or two above his dick while looking absolutely debauched that Steve wanted to kiss him again.

Instead, he simply watched as Bucky reached back to guide his cock into his entrance, and there was nothing Steve could do but moan out when the tight heat enveloped him, muscles quivering as Bucky tried to take him in one go with a moan of his own.

He bottomed out, and Bucky breathed heavily through his nose from where he pressed his face into his neck as he adjusted. Steve pressed one chaste kiss onto shoulder while he rubbed his back. “Whenever you’re ready.”

And then, Bucky was moving, shallowly at first, before he found a rhythm that had both of them gasping out their names, clutching onto each other as they tried to touch every part of themselves they could have their hands on. 

Bucky rolled his hips before slamming down, fingers digging into his biceps as they kissed and kissed and Steve had to wrench himself away when another scent he was familiar with suddenly hit himself in the nose. 

“Oh,” he said faintly, looking down to where he had his hand spread across Bucky’s abdomen, his muscles contracting every time he moved. “Bucky— _ah—_ Bucky, are you starting your heat?”

“ _What?_ ” Bucky blurted out, snapping his head down. “I shouldn’t be, I’m on pills.”

Steve leaned up to inhale on his skin, and there it was. “You’re definitely starting your heat, I can smell it on you.”

Past all the thick haze of arousal, he knew any normal suppressants had zero effect on Bucky as much as they did with Steve. Because of the serums, they had to consume a modified version a.k.a. chemically enhanced pills or as Natasha and Sam liked to call it, super pills.

Super pills, super strength, super sex—

“What the f— _uck_ ,” Bucky choked out when he railed himself against his prostate, digging crescent moons deeper into his flesh when Steve let out a choked out groan from the fluttering muscles around his cock. “ _That_ ,” Bucky visibly swallowed, blinking as he tried to compose himself. “That doesn’t always happen because they usually worked. I’m not supposed to get any heats.”

“Well, you’re having one now,” Steve chuckled breathlessly, the sound almost guttural with how the sweet smell already seeped fully in his brain and was making everything feel pleasantly muddled. He was on the highway to being Alpha-stupid already — motherfucking _pheromones_. “Might have to stop this soon, before we’d do somethin’ we might not have an opinion on later.”

Steve dug his heels into the canvas, one hand spread on it behind him, and rammed his hips up that Bucky wailed, back arching deliciously. 

“ _Jesus wept_ ,” Bucky wheezed, head still tilted back that Steve didn’t stop himself from leaning forward and catching his nipple into his mouth. He rolled the nub with tongue that had Bucky clutching his hair again. “You say one thing and do another, you cheat, and if you pull out right now, I _swear—_ “

“You’d sit on me again?” Steve rumbled out innocently, nipping onto his nipple that had Bucky shoving his chest to his face and Steve took and took and _took_.

Bucky let his dick slide out to the head before slamming back down that the sound of their flesh echoed; Steve gasped, leaning back as he was overwhelmed by touch, his scent, _everything_. 

It looked like Bucky was close too, sweat making his skin shine under the white lights, teeth latching onto his bottom lip that could’ve broken skin as he raised himself up and down, up and down. The hand Steve had on his abdomen scratched down the trail of dark pubic hair before it wrapped around his length, and Bucky whimpered when Steve let his thumb swipe over the head.

“You’re almost there, sweetheart,” he encouraged soothingly, pressing up the thick vein under the curve of his dick at the same time he jerked his hips up again, causing Bucky to wail out helplessly. “You’re so close.”

“I’m gonna—“ Bucky gasped, eyes watery and threatening to spill. “Stevie, I’m gonna—“

Steve changed his angle and rammed up again, hard and buried deep inside him that Bucky came with a choked out whine as white come splattered into his fist and some onto his front, his walls rippling and clenching around his dick that had Steve groaning loudly into his neck.

Bucky collapsed against his chest, breathing hard into his ear as he rubbed his face into his scent glands, mouth dragging across the skin with lazy pulls.

Steve ran his hand down his spine, trying to catch his breath. “You okay?”

Bucky leaned back to respond, but the movement made Steve let out a punched out sound when his hard dick was still stuffed inside Bucky, and Steve as if he was going to burst at the seams with how strung he was.

“Oh, baby,” Bucky breathed, reaching back to touch where they were connected and sopping wet from his own slick. Steve swallowed air when fingers circled around the base of his dick, teasing and light, before Steve was grabbing his wrist that Bucky looked at him from under his lashes, still drunk on post-orgasm.

“We gotta shower,” Steve murmured, his skin prickling from the charged air around them. He brought Bucky’s wrist to his mouth and let it rest there. “Gotta clean up soon too, you’re not gonna last like this forever.”

“I could go for another round now.” Bucky shrugged lightly when Steve arched his eyebrows. “You didn’t knot.”

“Because if I did, I could accidentally knock you up,” Steve said against his veins, voice slightly muffled. 

Bucky’s eyes glowed considerably. “That’s an idea.”

“That’s your heat talking,” Steve puffed out an air of amusement, pressing his lips against his wrist into a proper kiss. “I’m gonna pull out, and we’re gonna walk to the showers and wash everything off. Then, we’re going back to the inn.”

Bucky hummed in agreement, letting out a strangled moan when Steve lifted him up, his dick springing free that had him sucking in a sharp breath at how stupidly sensitive he still was.

Bucky eyed it for a while as his fingers mindlessly petted his side, something hungry burning in his gaze. “Showers, then.”

After Bucky sucked him off under the spray of water that had Steve shouting his name hoarse, they soaped off all the sweat and spunk until the smell of lavender filled in the bathroom. The water was still somewhat warm, and the body heat both of them were emitting was enough to keep them cozy for a little longer as they held each other in the cubicle.

Bucky peered up from where he had been washing off the suds from his arms. “I know why you wouldn’t tell me.”

The words left an octave that would’ve implied that the room was bigger than it should be, bouncing off the tiled walls and the shell of his ears. Steve met his gaze. “Tell you what?”

“About your mate.”

Steve froze, but quickly unhooked the panic from his bones before Bucky would notice. But, he already did, from how he pursed his lips.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” Bucky continued quietly, and Steve didn’t look away, water dripping from his eyelashes. “I could— I could smell myself on you in our room, when you first came. I didn’t realise it til’ you had to push me away from some Hydra soldier at the first facility, and even then I wasn’t so sure, not until we were chuffin’ on the ground with other people around us.” He took a breath. “That’s why, I’m guessin’, you kept saying I was your constant.”

Perhaps when ignorance was peaceful, the truth of learning it yourself would be more gentle towards the stretch of your future. Steve knew keeping it from him was the only way he could protect Bucky from those events; he knew that when he hadn’t been close enough to hold his hand.

Bucky found out, though.

“Do I even want to know?” Bucky asked, frank and throaty all at once.

Steve let his fingers danced over his shoulders, before they settle on his elbows, the same way something heavy settled in his chest. “You survived the past eighty years like I did,” he began softly. “Like me, you still had your youth and your strength. You could fight like you do now, only you were better. Stronger. You were harder to beat in combat then.” He hesitated, before moving on. “But you didn’t want that anymore. You plan to not fight anyone and had been catching up some rest, going through your hobbies and new interests of a new century.”

“Why does it feel like you’re not sayin’ a chunk of what was supposed to be?” Bucky murmured. 

“It’s ruthless, Buck,” Steve conceded quietly, tightening his hold onto him. “I can’t— you have no idea the things they’ve done to make sure they get what they want. And the only way for them to do that is when they use someone else as their toy. They’re cowards but they’re efficient. The nightmare starts then.”

“What _happened_ , Steve?” Bucky demanded, eyes a storm of grey under the light. “What happened that spooked you so much?”

“Hydra, Buck.” Steve swallowed around the ball grating in his throat. “Hydra happened. And I let you slip through my fingers.”

Bucky shook his head in confusion. “But I came back.”

“Not after decades later, not until I was chasing you throughout the world with every intention of bringing you back to me. As it was, you were very hard to find.” Steve cupped his face, hands trembling. “I lost you once, I wasn’t going to lose you again.”

Bucky worked his jaw, eyes fleetingly moving around his face. “What happened to me?”

Steve was the one who shook his head then. “Please don’t make me tell you.”

“You ain’t gonna keep this from me, Steve, not when it’s _about_ me.”

“Bucky, please,” Steve begged, feeling utterly hopeless. “Don’t make me do this.”

There was a war going on his face as Bucky tried to let it go, but Steve knew it was eating him inside out. It was expected; if someone from the future told you you were alive eighty years later, surely there would be questions. Surely, when the mind and heart formed camaraderie for once, it was demanding the kind of things that would make you understand why you were still young and healthy in the 21st century; why you were still living, when you should already be six feet under.

Unless, the war killed you first.

Steve was asking a lot from him, he knew this, but he didn’t want Bucky to go through the horrors again. He didn’t want Bucky to know how life hadn’t been kind to him when he was still breathing the frigid air and walked on the blood-caked ground.

Telling the truth, as horrible as it was, would be the best course of action when it concerned with someone’s life. But considering how pain consumed every corner of what memories Bucky would have been holding, it was best to spare him any of those by sweeping them out of the table and destroy it with fire.

It was selfish. It was selfish and cruel to withhold someone’s whole life from them, but Steve thought it was for the better cause — never was he ever going to make the man he loved suffer so much again.

“After,” Bucky said, voice rough. “After you found me, I’m guessing that was when we got together.”

“Yeah,” Steve confirmed quietly, letting his hands run up his arms before they went down again. “We got together. We have a life.”

Bucky closed his eyes. “I still don’t understand how both of us were able to survive through the years without aging a day.”

Steve leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. “Cheap luck and eighty years worth of therapy.”

* * *

There was still no new results.

Howard suggested he and his team break down the whole thing and rebuild it from scratch. It wouldn’t take as long as they first made it, only a couple of weeks or so before they would test it again.

There were theories on its failure. It could be the power source, it could be that they needed something stronger than the human electricity. It could happen because they were trying to meddle with time and physics the same way a purple Titan had done by using an intergalactic stone. The variables are endless, and they needed to try something else as fast as they could.

These kinds of talks were taken from the phonebooth he used across the road instead of having their usual meetings at Howard’s summer house or Peggy’s office. Both Peggy and Howard had let out terrifyingly identical and knowing _ah’s_ when Steve spluttered out his reasons.

He spent most of the time then with Bucky in their room, taking care of him and making sure he had enough food and water to consume after every round of sex. Jugs of water were refilled daily, and they had a basket full of chocolate, energy bars, and even some pastries to munch on whenever they took a break. Steve sometimes went out to buy some sandwiches or cups of hot coffee whenever Bucky slept, taking the time to stretch his legs as well before he headed back.

It was five days later that Bucky’s heat finally broke. The next day, they were already back to work.

That night, they both drove to Norwich to have a look at the half-finished machine. Howard wasn’t there to greet them but Jarvis led them to the basement; the archers didn’t have any of the silver plates yet to cover the wires that stuck out dangerously like a naked tree.

Staring at it now, Steve hoped this time it would work. He had already overstayed his welcome here, done things his past self would’ve picked easily if, _when_ he came back. He had to hope that this year’s Steve Rogers would make an appearance once he left, especially when this timeline still needed him in all the crucial ways possible. After all, it was time Steve himself went back and helped his friends in putting down Thanos and his minions — hopefully once and forever. 

Perhaps things would’ve been different after this; perhaps, in the furthest part of his soul, he’d _want_ to stay here a little longer to prevent what he couldn’t on that train. Perhaps —he prayed and begged whoever was listening to him before and then— the incident on that fateful day wouldn’t even happen. It’d be a glitch in the matrix. A much needed oopsie-daisy.

Impossible, of course. But it was a thought.

Bucky walked around the time machine to have a closer look, restrained interest filtering through his eyes. “This might be one of the craziest things Stark made. Crazier than flying cars.”

“The whole situation is crazy.” Steve stood just outside the platform, thumbs hooked onto the hoops of his pants. “I’m the man from the future about to go back to his time to fight aliens. The world’s on the brink of being turned upside down. We’re surviving.”

Bucky nodded along. “Nazis still exists.”

Steve stared at the tip of his boots, shaking his head. “Oh, we can’t forget about that.”

“Hey.” Looking up, Bucky was at the other side of the archers with a gentle expression on his face. “You’re gonna be alright.”

Steve gave him a half smile. “We’re gonna be alright.”

“You know it.” Bucky strode up to him, before he reached out and cupped his cheek to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Gonna rock the world up with the likes of you.”

“I’m not alone,” Steve said, snaking his arms around his waist. “I have you.”

Bucky smiled tightly. “Future me taking care of you well?”

“You know it. Hey,” Steve brushed a thumb against the line of his jaw. “We’re gonna be alright.”

Bucky merely looked at him, as if he didn’t know what to say. “Yeah.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but something sparked at the corner of his eye, and both he and Bucky jumped from each other with their respective shield and weapons out when something golden appeared out of thin air. It rounded itself up into a circle, crackling and loud, and Steve braced himself for whatever it was that was coming for them.

Only, a man flew out of the circle — a _portal_ , Steve realised suddenly— his red cape flying behind him, hands spread out to control the opened portal as he zeroed on Steve alone.

Bucky cursed. “Motherfucker—“

“Captain Rogers,” the man said. “I’m Dr. Stephen Strange. We haven’t met officially, but I’m supposed to bring you home.”

 _Home._ The Wakandian gifted shield on his arm suddenly felt heavier than it used to be, but Steve didn’t put it down, eyeing the portal before snapping his look to the man, who had landed on the floor and stood before them in all his glory. “Is this a trick?”

Strange raised an eyebrow. “I can assure you, Captain, it’s not a trick. I wouldn’t phase through millions of alternate universes just to screw you over the head.”

Bucky tightened his grip on his gun, face stricken with incredulity when he glanced at Steve. “You know this guy?”

“Like he said, we haven’t officially met yet.” Steve frowned. “How did you know me?”

“Someone called Spiderman couldn’t stop talking about you and the Avengers, about ye tall?” Strange lifted his hand above his shoulder height before letting it drop. “And I’m sure you’re affiliated with Tony Stark?”

“Yeah.” Steve slowly lowered his shield, standing down. If both of them met Strange, then it was possible to trust him. “I know them.”

Bucky stared at him, following suit, but he still had his finger curled around the trigger when he studied Strange warily. “What are you supposed to be? Some kind of wizard?”

Strange sighed, as if more than a few people had been asking him the same question today. “Yes, Sergeant Barnes, I’m some sort of wizard.”

“How did you—“ Bucky snapped his mouth shut, lips thinning. 

Strange scrutinised him curiously, before meeting Steve’s gaze. “You told him?”

Steve felt guilt twisting his gut again. “Just what he needed to know.”

Bucky snorted. “Not enough.”

Strange hummed. “I see.”

“How?” Steve blurted out then, unable to keep himself still when he took a step forward, before stopping himself. “How did you find me? I thought Thanos—“

“Alternatives, Captain,” Strange said, nodding at the portal’s direction. “All fourteen million of them, and one of them is having to come back to the future.”

“If I go back, will this timeline’s Steve Rogers appear too?”

Strange offered him a tiny smile. “Yes.”

Only earlier Steve had prayed for a miracle to make the time machine work. He never thought they’d actually be answered, standing right in front of him in the embodiment of a man who could control portals with his own hands. It was hysterical, but Steve had seen worse things whenever it concerned the lives of everyone involved and the threat of the planet. A portal that would lead him back wasn’t one of them.

When Steve looked back at Bucky, he was already staring at him.

Strange stepped back. “I’ll give you two a minute.”

Steve walked forward until he stood right in front of Bucky, taking the hand not holding the gun in his, searching his eyes carefully from where they stilled stayed on him. “Bucky.”

“I’m sure future me is kicking your ass for doin’ anything stupid, so I’ll spare you that. But,” Bucky squeezed his hand, pleading with him in the shine of his look. “Be careful.”

Steve cupped is face, resting his forehead on his. “I have you to watch my back.”

“You’re depending on me again,” Bucky accused of him quietly, clutching onto his belt. “You can’t always depend on me, Stevie, even if I’m a hundred years old like you. It’s going to crush you.”

“Already did once.” Steve breathed him in, eyelids lowering when the familiar scent of burnt sugar filled his nostrils. “I have you now. What more can they do to me?”

For the second time that hour, Bucky wasn’t able to say a word in reply, and the silence was too heavy for Steve to bear that he leaned forward and gave him a kiss; their lips slid together earnest and sweet, of the moments they shared and the ones they didn’t have the chance to experience. Steve kissed him with all his heart had to offer and the promises he failed to meet, begging the world to be gentle with Bucky, with this beautiful man because he deserved so much more that anyone realised.

Steve was afraid he’d be ruthless when it concerned with Bucky’s life that others wouldn’t matter.

Steve let his fingers linger on his cheek for a little more before they parted. He stepped back and saw Strange waiting for him beside the portal.

Steve gave him a nod, and Strange only answered with one of his own before he walked through the portal and disappeared inside it.

Steve pursed his lips together, walking forward until he stood directly in front of it, before he craned his head to look back at Bucky.

He had his arms crossed tightly against his chest, watching Steve leave him. Bucky offered a loose two-finger salute. “Ain’t going anywhere.” 

Steve let out a breath of laughter. “See ya, Buck.”

Bucky allowed a small smile to take place. “See ya, Stevie.”

Steve gave him one last smile before he crossed over.

He felt like he stepped over a cliff and was falling through an endless void. 

His breath lodged up in his throat, his limbs helpless in open air as he reached out to find something, anything to hold on to. The gaping emptiness was a sick feeling that twisted in his chest and crawled across his shoulders; he was a flapping fish out of the water and there was nothing he could do to bring him back in it. 

But the _colours_. There were purples and greens and reds with oranges and yellows and blues mashed together into a web of galaxies Steve hadn’t seen before. An eternity of them spread across universes until one edge met another. There were hundreds of stars, all bright and white, shining among the colourful canvas that stretched all around him that he thought it never really had an end. 

It lasted for thirty seconds at most, but it felt so drastically longer that he had been so sure he was going to fall forever.

Only to be spat out at almost the same time Thanos had used the time stone on him.

Steve gasped, pushing himself up from the pond he fell in as he blinked away the vertigo that threatened to make him topple over. He would’ve if it wasn’t for how a large hand gripped firmly over his bicep.

“Jesus Christ. _Steve_.”

When Steve looked up, it was Bruce looking at him with wide eyes, something almost frantic in them. “Thanos, he— I _saw_ you getting blasted with that gauntlet and disappearing in front of my own eyes, _how_ are you here?”

“Oh god,” Steve gasped out, looking around him as he gripped onto Bruce’s arm. “I’m back. I’m really here.”

“What does _that_ mean?” Bruce asked, on the verge of panicking as he helped him stand up. “Steve, for a second, we thought you were gone for good. You need to explain to me how are you _here._ ”

Shrubs and trees took out most of the clearing, water dripped from his clothes and face but it was clear that Steve was back in Wakanda. The sound of battle still happened from a distance, shouts bouncing off from left to right as he tried to get his bearings back.

When he looked around, Dr. Strange had vanished.

Steve patted his arm, swallowing down the bubbling laughter down or Bruce was going to think he was going loose in the head. “Later,” he choked out, when Bruce stared at him in worry. “I’ll explain later, I promise.”

Bruce nodded. “Alright, because we have to get going. Thanos is trying to kill us off like we’re flies and they need you out there now.”

The shield on his arm unfurled under his command. Steve gave one last squeeze on his metal arm before he stepped back. “I’m on it.”

Steve didn’t know where Bucky was, he was going to find him later — soon, if possible, since he left his earpiece back in time and had no way of contacting him immediately. Steve hoped, _prayed_ , that Bucky was alright.

But Steve had to admit that the look on Thanos’ face when he burst out of the greenery had satisfaction curling in his gut before he punched his nose to the back of his skull. There were exclamations from his friends, shocked at his sudden appearance, and he landed another punch below the Titan’s jaw before leaning back from Thanos’ swinging fist.

It was letting out a barrage of attacks and ducking from the ones Steve was getting in return. One of his friends would jump in when he went down and fought Thanos with their own hook and shoot until he swatted them away. It gave Steve the determination to fill in their places by bowling into Thanos head on — not giving up, _never_ giving up.

That was until Thanos decided he had enough and grabbed Steve by the neck and easily lifted him up to his eye level, teeth bared into a sneer. “You should have stayed where I was kind enough to leave you in. Why do you choose to live a life where you experience nothing but pain?”

Steve pulled onto those fingers that were crushing his airways, and breathing was getting harder by the second. “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” he spat out.

Steve pushed his legs up and kicked him hard in the neck until Thanos almost dropped him, but the Titan only snarled and threw him across the clearing until Steve crashed into a tree trunk.

His back felt like it was going to break in half, but he didn’t have the time to think of that now, not when everyone who tried to stop Thanos was treated like he was, not when everyone was getting hurt.

When he pushed himself to his knees, Thor slashed down from the skies in a blaze of lightning — rage, rage, _rage_ existed in the glare of his eyes and the murderous scream that tore from the bellies of revenge that manifested and coiled in his veins with the heaviness of a fool’s poison. Stormbreaker was held high above his head, a new king with his new friend, and he was on the hunt to bring back a head to his table.

It was like this. When the sharp edge of the god’s weapon whistled through the air and sunk into Titan flesh, it was as if someone had pulled onto one of the universe’s sacred levers and the world coughed out sins that was committed by every living thing that breathed in their first air.

It was like this.

When Thor pushed Thanos to his knees using Stormbreaker alone, there was a flicker of hope one would have when they knew the chance of having to live another day glowed bright at the end of the hallway. It was knowing, despite its dark walls hovering above their heads, the world would greet you with opened arms and kissed your forehead with a loving mother’s touch.

But Thanos raised the hand wearing the gauntlet and a door closed onto that reality with an obstinate slam that vibrated within their souls.

Thor roared, louder than the lightning he could create—

_Snap._

When the bright light subsided, Thanos had vanished.

Something was missing then; Steve couldn’t put his finger on it but the air above his skin felt stale and breathing proved to be a difficult thing when that air rolled in his mouth. The swaying trees were mourning and sighing in the tumbling leaves, branches bouncing in their places as they reached out for them. The skies were duller, cloudless as they were, sucked out of life.

“Where did he go?” Thor demanded, fury vibrating underneath his skin. “Where did he _go?_ ”

Steve stood, holding onto his side. Dread was sinking like quicksand into his bones and panic was crowding his lungs. There was something vile about this; it wasn’t victory, what they were experiencing, not when the last piece moved across the board had been from Thanos. Not when there was something wrong with the earth underneath their feet.

Something was stolen from them and he didn’t know what.

Fear made its first appearance at this notion, that the thought of having it taken away from them but they didn’t know exactly what it was settled readily on the surface. The rush of blood roared in his ears, bile slid down his throat, and Steve searched around and around and there was no way of knowing what there was to expect.

What would it be? What could it be?

Thanos promised a life of balance. This wasn’t it. This wasn’t fucking it.

 _What are you going to do?_ A voice whispered beside him, taunting him. _Sweetheart, what are you going to do?_

He didn’t know the answer to that. He needed something to give him a clue, _anything_.

“Steve?”

But by God, not this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sexy of you guys to stick with me this long, I’m turned on.


	5. Epilouge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m thinking of leaving for a while.”
> 
> She shook the bag a bit to let the chips fall to one side. “How long is a while?”
> 
> “I don’t know.”
> 
> “Can we call you once we find something related to Thanos?”
> 
> He took a deep breath. “Of course. I’m not gonna abandon this just yet, Nat, I just… need a break.”
> 
> Natasha looked up and let her eyes dig around his face. He stared back at her. “Where do you want to go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you must know, I’ve tried.
> 
> So, this will be the last chapter. Thank you for being patient and stayed with me throughout the whole fic! I’m just moved by the support I’m getting and it’s all very overwhelming uwu
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Somewhere in Europe, 1943**

Steve felt as if his soul was spat back into his body with extreme prejudice when his eyes snapped open.

He stayed still, barely breathing when he tried to make sure the ceiling wasn’t moving before realising he was in a tent — _his_ tent, he would assume. It glowed from where the lamp was lit somewhere beside him, enough to know the day was already deep into the late night when silence crouched outside.

He licked the back of his teeth, trying to let feeling seep back into his hands and feet. Dull pain started to trickle back in his chest and shoulder, slowly building until it was just the edge of uncomfortable, before he started to grimace.

Right. He was shot. And not once.

He was shirtless, bandages wrapped around his torso and looped over the wounded shoulder. A blanket was pulled to his waist, and someone took off his shoes and left him in his socks before they tucked him in. It kept him from freezing in his sleep when he could feel the cold air coming in from the open flap of the tent.

When he turned his head towards it, Bucky sat there with a cigarette hanging between his lips, the smell of nicotine faint as he went through what Steve realised was his sketchbook, using what little light they had with them to study each drawing quietly.

Steve hoped his younger self wouldn’t mind him using a few empty pages of the book.

He planted a hand beside him and pushed himself up, grunting. He felt stiff and slimy and his lips and throat were dry as a desert. It was god fucking awful.

“Whoa, hey. You’re not supposed to move around so much,” Bucky called out while standing up, snapping the sketchbook shut as he walked to his side.

“And that thing will kill you.” Steve replied.

“And yet, I’m not on the cot like a half-wrangled fish.”

Steve waved him away. “I’m fine, Buck.”

“Yeah, well,” There was something taut in Bucky’s voice. “Our clothes would disagree since they were soaked with your blood, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Steve took a long look at Bucky then. It seemed as if he didn’t get any rest, looking as haggard as Steve felt when dark bags hung under his eyes and the state of his hair appeared thoroughly combed with worried fingers. Bucky stared back, undeterred, but he did take the cigarette out of his mouth and let it roll between his fingers, still holding onto the sketchbook with his other hand. “There’s holes on yours too, so you need to stitch them up or you’ll be walking around looking like some poor schmuck.”

“I am a poor schmuck.”

“That’s not true anymore.”

“Sure it is,” Steve assessed the bandage that covered his heart, running a hand over it as if it could settle the feeling of almost dying in his best friend’s arms. “It’s just I wear a fancy uniform now, and there’s just not much difference really.” He looked up when Bucky didn’t reply to that, and sighed. “How long was I out?”

“Long. A little over thirteen hours.” Something seemed to burn in Bucky’s eyes. “I thought time went wonky for a while and suddenly I found myself walking in this long road to eternity. Fortunately, I still had some sense to not go down that path and make myself go nuts.”

Steve rubbed his mouth with his palm, a different kind of pain alight underneath his sternum at his words. “What did I miss?”

“What Hydra soldiers that managed to survive chickened out and ran when we were too busy licking our own wounds. Which was a shame, ‘cause I didn’t get to bash their brains out for the shit they’ve done.” _For hurting you_ , what was unsaid. Bucky remained standing where he was, as if refusing the luxury of being near Steve when he was all wrapped up like that. Steve didn’t blame him, but it made him want Bucky beside him all the same. “The town’s cleaning after the mess. There’s gonna be a large funeral soon for the dead.”

“How are they doing? The others?”

“They’re fine. Been trying to help the people around, but they’re rejecting our help. Said something about how we already saved them, now it’s their turn to save us.” Bucky gave a crooked smile. “We can’t mess with ‘em, Steve. This doctor threatened to kick Jimmy’s ass out of his clinic himself if he didn’t get out then. A nice looking old lady tried to hit Dum Dum with a ladle when he offered to carry this big pot.”

“Well, the lady probably did it herself all these years before some chum American tried to be a hero with her.” Steve pointed out with a grin. 

“Ah, true, but before that she was carrying her son into her house,” the smile had already dropped from Bucky’s face, something shuttered now took its place. “He lost his eyesight. Been cryin’ his eyes out ‘cause the world suddenly got so dark.”

The thought of small hands blindly reaching for a mother who’s comforting him as the boy cried left little to desire. Steve had yet to see the condition of the town. He knew it was bad when the bombing destroyed some parts of it, but he didn’t know how bad it was specifically that they were able to survive throughout the winter. Did they have supplies? Enough food to feed their family?

He had to have a look. Call out Phillips and send in some people to help maybe, if they have anything to spare.

“I managed to scrub the stains off your clothes,” Bucky added, moving even further away from Steve to stub the cigarette into the tin. Even if the tent was barely enough to fit two people and Bucky was still within his sights, Steve thought he was so far away. “They’re laid out on a log. If you wanted to wear them, they won’t be soaking wet, but they’ll be damp.”

Steve blinked. “Thank you, Buck, but you know you didn’t have to do that. I could’ve done it later.”

A tight look took over his features as Bucky only looked back at him. “I needed too.”

Steve frowned slightly. “Bucky—“

“I _needed_ —“ Bucky stopped, licking his lips as he looked away again, staring at the sketchbook he gripped in his hand instead. “Let me do this. For once, I had to do something while you laid there, _barely_ breathing, or I’m just gonna crawl out of my own skin.”

“You know you don’t—“

“I know I don’t have to do _anything,_ ” Bucky cut him off roughly, his head snapping up to meet his gaze. The stench of a distressed Omega was beginning to fill in the tent. He raked his fingers through his hair to calm himself down. “But that was the only thing that was familiar between us before I fucked off first into war. So please, don’t stop me from taking care of you again.”

Steve swallowed at this, wanting to reach out and comfort him, to will away the affliction that blared from Bucky’s tensed shoulders and pinched mouth. He wanted to tell him that yes, Steve would want him to do whatever he wanted, whatever it was that could prevent Bucky from looking like that ever again.

But, he only watched as Bucky walked to his side again and opened the sketchbook he bookmarked with his finger, showing Steve a half-finished sketch he did of him a few days ago when it was Steve’s turn to take watch.

Bucky wasn’t asleep then, leaning against a tree trunk on the opposite side of the small fire they made to keep warm, the orange glow a warm thing against the cut of his cheekbones. The moon lended a hand with its streaks, and Steve was able to see clearly enough that it was as if someone shone a spotlight onto them.

“You’ll fuck up your eyes if you keep drawing without proper lighting.” Bucky chastised, but sounding fond.

So, he noticed what Steve had been doing that night. Steve had a feeling Bucky allowed himself to be used as a muse, and _that_ had been familiar. It was something Steve’s done a thousand of times back when they were at home, and like then, Bucky would’ve done nothing and Steve already had his pencils to sketch him out. But he wasn’t so sure when Bucky stared into the night, expression carefully empty as his fingers mindlessly tapped against his sniper.

“Enhanced sight.” Steve stared at the drawing. “I don’t need so much light to see properly now.”

Bucky hummed. Steve lifted his head to look at him, and caught Bucky’s eyes instead, those silver-blues heavy on his skin.

They didn’t say anything, regarding each other as if they were seeing each other for the first time. But, Steve merely wanted to look at him without shame; he wanted to look at Bucky without stealing glances, or without having to make sure anyone else caught him as if he was committing a crime. Right now, right then, when both of them were alone in his quiet tent, he was able to do that without judgement.

Bucky held his gaze without a word, before those eyes flickered back towards the sketch. “Too bad you didn’t finish it.”

Steve scooted to the side to make space, and to his relief, Bucky took the unsaid invitation by sitting down next to him. “It was Monty’s turn then.”

“Damn you, Monty. You were getting my good side too,” Bucky laughed softly, touching the edge of the drawing with the tip of his fingers. “You still draw in the future?”

The last time Steve picked up a pencil was so long ago. He just didn’t have the time when he was combing through the world for leftover Hydra parasites with Sam and Natasha. “Not as much as I’d like to.”

“Why? Too busy?”

“You could say that. I was chasing people, people were chasing me. It’s an ongoing circle.”

“Why the hell were people chasing you?”

“For not agreeing with them,” Steve shrugged when Bucky waited for him to elaborate. “There was a vote. And I voted on a side that made them very angry. So now, they’re up my ass about it all the time and would want to see me in court.”

“Who’s _they?”_

“The government. And not just America.”

Bucky exhaled sharply through his nose, snapping the sketchbook shut. “Governments from other countries are chasing you too? You’re, what, an international criminal?”

Steve gave a sheepish smile. “The bounty I have on my head is pretty high.”

“Jesus Christ, Steve.”

“They weren’t overreacting, but what they did to decide for us wasn’t right too.”

“Oh, so, you’re not the only one getting hunted down by political bloodhounds.”

“It’s a team effort,” Steve confirmed as he nodded in mock solemnity. “I couldn’t be the way I am if I didn’t have a bunch of nutcases like me to follow me everywhere. But, they’re _my_ nutcases. You can imagine how I was feeling when they were threatened.”

“I don’t have to imagine anything because I can see it happening. With clear intensity.” Bucky snorted. “What the fuck, Steve. From the country’s respected hero to a hooligan? Never thought I’d see the day Captain America got his shit blown so sideways.”

Steve chuckled. “It happens.”

“With who you are, it shouldn’t have to be.” Bucky pointed out.

A film of silence settled comfortably onto their shoulders, and Steve liked how easy it was to slip into this, how he was able to be with Bucky again after everything that happened between them.

He missed this. He missed _them_.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Buck.” Steve said softly.

Bucky let one side of his mouth lift up. “I wouldn’t know what I’d do if _you_ weren’t here with me, Stevie.”

* * *

**Wakanda, 2018**

The moment Steve had the hut in his sights, dark except for the moon that brought him there, he stopped.

It had been three hours since it happened.

It had been three hours, and he had just walked from the Golden City after the rest of them, those who were left behind and beaten and shaken as he was, filed into the throne room behind Okoye. Her grip on her spear threatened to break when she whirled around to face them all, her face haunted, and Steve didn’t blame her for it.

The first one to snap him out of his shock after that happened had been Bruce, who laid a mechanical hand on his back that Steve barely felt from where he was still sitting on the ground. His gaze was stricken to Vision’s corpse from where a large portion of his forehead was dented in, _crushed_ in, his cloudy eyes staring emptily into the skies.

The ashes in front of Steve remained the way it was. Grey and soft, light as a petal. The sniper on top of it sat motionless, and Steve swore he could feel the weight of it travelling to the ground and seeping into his skin, making his teeth vibrate with an energy he didn’t want.

It felt like hours before someone hooked a hand under his arm and gently pulled him to his feet. He hardly realised that too, merely letting his body move with someone else’s wishes. He was too far in shock, and he needed to pull himself together. After everything that happened, he had to. _He had to._

Someone must have called him a few times, because when he slowly lifted his head, Natasha was waiting for him to resurface with the same wild look he was feeling. She had a scratch on her cheek, blood drying, and she was talking to him that it took a moment for Steve to register her words.

“—have to go.”

He blinked, and she was talking again. “We have to go, Steve.” It was obvious she was trying to make herself sound even, probably for his sake as much as her own. “Come on.”

He took a deep breath, and released it through his nose. “Nat.”

Something painful flashed through her face before she quickly reigned it in. “I know.”

He saw how the last hour seemed to replay in her eyes that he had to look away. Instead, he found himself taking in his surroundings and saw Thor staring emptily at where Thanos had disappeared, not listening to whatever it was Bruce was saying as he too tried to pull his friend out of the same spiralling revelation they all were going through.

Steve faced Natasha again. “Where’s Sam?”

“I wasn’t with him,” she said, looking around, something akin to panic rising on her face. “I was too far away, maybe—“

“He’s gone.”

They both whipped their heads up just as Rhodey walked up behind them, his face grim. “We were together when I found,” he stopped, gaze dropping down to their feet. To Vision. To the ashes. To the sniper that laid on top of it.

This is a nightmare, Steve thought, feeling sick to his stomach. A horrible, horrible nightmare. And they were all stuck in this part with nowhere to know if they were ever going to get out.

“He’s gone,” Rhodey repeated helplessly, shoulders pulled down.

When they were all rounded up at the throne room, it took minutes before anyone spoke, before anyone even made a sound.

But they had to address it. They had to address what hell they’ve seen and how it rose from the Underworld to get to them first.

Now, seeing the little hut he had associated as his home, was only reminding him how Bucky wasn’t there to greet him.

Steve forced his feet to move, right until he was at the door and pushing the curtain away to look into the space Bucky had left it in. It was dark, but he could still the outlines of things as his eyes adjusted quickly.

The speaker where they played songs to dance to sat quietly on the dresser, his phone left beside it while the flowers Steve bought for him on his last visit had dried up on the round table at the other side of the place. The sink was empty and everything was neat as it could be.

When Steve stepped inside, he had to stop and close his eyes against the faint smell of _home_ and _Bucky_ that still lingered on the walls and furniture. It was overwhelming, the sweet tang enveloping him fully until his throat threatened to close up.

He moved until he found himself sitting on the bed, and the sheets and blankets were tucked into the mattress and folded at the foot of it. Cushions were stacked beside them. They could’ve been used as a nest. Bucky liked piling his bed with all of them to snuggle into whenever he could, and sometimes, when Steve was around, he would join him too.

Steve knew he probably should clean himself up, or the very least get out of his uniform. But everything was pulling onto his body to the ground after the battle. Exhaustion hung heavily on the structure of his bones that he tilted himself to the side and laid down.

The muted smell of his mate wafted his nose the moment his head hit the pillow, and Steve sucked in a sharp breath.

Unprompted, tears ran down his cheeks, and he weeped for the man he had been longing for.

* * *

“Knock knock.”

Steve looked up from where he was packing Bucky’s blanket into his duffel bag. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Natasha was leaning against the edge of the door with the curtain pushed aside, allowing the afternoon sun to shine in from the outside as she took in the hut. “This looks cosy.”

Steve shrugged, reaching for Bucky’s scarf and tucking it in the bag too. “It’s home.”

He straightened himself up, catching the way she was looking at him then, and shook his head when he saw how gentle the look was on her features. “I’m fine.”

“Hm. Maybe.” She stepped inside, allowing the curtain to fall before making her way deeper into the hut. She made a show of turning around, taking in the space. “It really is a nice place, Steve. I’d live here if I could.” She perked up when she saw the low bookshelf by the speakers and went towards it. She crouched down to have a look. “Do you mind if I borrow a book? It’s going to be a long ride to New York, and I have nothing to do.”

“Be my guest,” Steve replied, going through the cabinets for the snacks he once hauled over for when him and Bucky missed eating junk food. “Hey, Nat.”

When she looked up, he tossed a bag of chips to her while holding onto some granola bars and a packet of instant noodles with his other hand. She caught the Ruffles bag with one corner of her mouth hooked up. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I just didn’t want anything going stale, so I’m bringing back whatever’s left here.” Steve shoved the food into the bag as Natasha stood up with her selected book. When he took a glance at the cover, he saw it was the Wakandian Book of Fairy Tales that was gifted by T’Challa’s mother when Bucky first moved there.

He absolutely loved it. Sometimes, both of them would read it together in the fields after Bucky did his day chores. Bucky would lean against the bark of the tree, and Steve would lay on his lap to listen to the way he recited the stories; he’d be enjoying the sound of his voice, how he was near enough that Bucky’s scent soothed Steve, his eyes closed from where they took refuge under the shade. Sometimes there would be a cool breeze, and everything —for once— would be perfect.

Steve tried to not show any reaction, not when his chest was beginning to restrict at the sight of its golden and silver colours with the colourful image of a fanged creature on its cover. It took strength to not accidentally break the zip of his bag once he was done packing. “Peculiar choice.”

“From your peculiar collection,” she quipped, running her fingers over the spine. “I wasn’t going to read some book with a swooning couple who almost had their boobs out on the cover, thanks.”

Steve looked down at his duffel bag, biting his lower lip. “I don’t read those.”

Silence blanketed them. Natasha stood up with the book and chips in hand, the bag hardly crinkling when she made her way towards the mini fridge located at the corner. She pulled the door open. “You have some vegetables and fruits in here. A plate of chicken breasts. Where do these go?”

“‘Thought I’d give them away to the nearby village,” Steve answered, picking up Bucky’s phone before pausing, weighing it in his hand as he considered bringing it with him. He put it down. “Couldn’t bear to waste anything, y’know? And I won’t be coming here again in a long while, so everything’s just gonna stink up the place if I leave them in the fridge.”

“That’s true.” Natasha brought them all out, piling them in her arms. Steve passed her a paper bag and she put the food in it. “What about the goats, though? What’s going to happen to them?”

“I’m going to give the goats to them too. They’ll know what to do.” A chuckle escaped Steve. “Hate to say that I think I’ll miss them, though. The goats, I mean. Even though I lost a few socks because they thought it would be funny that I’d be walking around with stinky feet, but they were good company.”

The goats _were_ good company. When Steve wasn’t in Wakanda and spending his time with Bucky, these goats were making sure he wouldn’t be alone. They were good distractions, Bucky once admitted. If he was going to work on them everyday, it wouldn’t be so lonely then. Sure, sometimes Shuri or T’Challa visited or he would hang out with his neighbours once he didn’t feel like he wasn’t worthy of their presence. But, the days all of them weren’t there, the goats would be.

Bucky even had a favourite baby goat he fondly named Kid Steve. He had a brown coat with white spots splattered around his face and his legs, and apparently, had a knack to headbut other kids and sometimes an occasional adult. Kid Steve also brayed loudly whenever he was hungry, so there would be times when Bucky woke up from his nap with an eyeful of goat in his face.

Kid Steve wasn’t fond of real Steve in the beginning; when Steve was near Bucky, Kid Steve would ram himself into Steve’s legs in hopes to chase him away from his favorite person.

“I ain’t keen on sharing too,” Steve wheezed out, holding onto his —probably, most likely— bruised shins while Bucky laughed. Steve shot the baby goat a withering look. “But, you’re here, I’m here. So, we gotta do what we gotta do, kiddo.”

Kid Steve only rammed him again.

Time passed, and Kid Steve started to warm himself up with Steve that it usually resulted in the three of them cuddling together when it was time to tend to the goats. Steve was even given permission to brush him now; a feat that proved to be a difficult thing in the earlier stages of their rocky relationship.

Maybe, Steve would swing by the pen before they leave. He could imagine what Kid Steve’s reaction would be when Bucky wouldn’t be with him.

Steve nodded at the book in her grasp. “You’ll enjoy that, because I know I did.” 

“I’m sure,” she agreed as he hefted his duffel bag onto his shoulder.

He reached for Bucky’s phone again, contemplative. In the end, he pulled the bedside cabinet’s drawer and kept it in there.

Natasha watched it all in silence. “You ready?” she asked once he straightened himself up properly.

He nodded, giving the hut a last sweep of his gaze. “Let’s go.”

When they arrived the helicarrier, Okoye was waiting for them with a couple more of the Dora Milaje along with her. It appeared Steve and Natasha were the last ones to arrive because what was left of the Avengers were there too, clustered together as they murmured between themselves.

Thor was the one who saw them first, but he didn’t say anything, expression blank as he simply watched them come nearer.

Steve never thought Thor would be rendered to this. It was frightening.

“Steve, Nat.” It was Bruce who called out, looking and sounding relieved. As if he thought they would disappear in the middle of the night. “You’re here.”

“We’re here.” Natasha assured.

All of them looked as if they had some trouble sleeping. Steve didn’t blame them.

“We should get going,” Rhodey started, checking his phone. “Fury hasn’t replied yet, and I’m hoping for one on our way later. Even Maria’s not making a peep. But, the beeper I was able to find is still in the same place since we last found it.”

Bruce winced. “Do you think…?”

Rhodey thinned his lips. “We don’t know, but we have to go now and check it out.”

The notion left a bad taste in Steve’s mouth. It was a little over nine hours since the snap happened, and the fact that Fury wasn’t answering Rhodey’s messages was a red alarm they had to look into. There was a chance that, despite how Steve was praying it would be the opposite, both Fury and Maria were affected by Thanos as well.

“Thank you for letting us stay in the Golden City.” Natasha was saying to Okoye.

“My King would have wanted it after what we’ve been through,” Okoye assured, straightening her shoulders. “Good luck on your journey. We’ll be in contact once you’ve found what you’re looking for.”

Natasha smiled. “We hope so too.”

They piled into the helicarrier and the door closed behind them. Bruce sat on the pilot’s seat and lifted it off the ground, and when Steve looked out of the window, Okoye and the rest of Dora Milaje were watching them leave with tilted heads.

They tore through the skies. Steve went to the back and sat beside Thor, who had been staring at his axe with his elbows dug into his knees, looking detached. “How are you doing?”

“I should have decapitated him.” Was all Thor said, bitterness underlying his words.

Steve leaned back against his seat. “You didn’t know.”

“I should’ve. That thick-skinned bastard deserved it after what he’s done.” Thor tightened his grip onto the axe. “I should have gone for his head.”

“Thor,” Steve said gently. “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“I’m not,” Thor lied, still hunched halfway. “But the fact I should’ve done more still stands.”

“You didn’t know,” Steve tried again, and Thor lifted his head to finally face him, only for Steve to see how glassy his eyes were.

“My people were murdered by his hand,” Thor rasped out. “Right after I saved them from another kind of horror that had already taken more of them before that. Before I knew it, almost everyone was dead by my feet if I hadn’t told Valkyrie to escape with whoever’s left. Heimdal is dead. Loki—“

Suddenly, Thor barks out a short bout of humourless laughter. “Loki is dead. _Again_. But this time, I’m afraid it’d be permanent when Thanos made sure I watched the way he snapped his neck. Of course, it hurt as much as the last couple of times he died in front of me and I’m trying to not let that get to me. Obviously, it’s not working.”

Steve didn’t know what happened to Thor that had him weilding a new weapon and changed his look. From the story he told him, it seemed that Thor was blaming himself because he failed a second time to stop Thanos from hurting people again. And it was eating him on the inside out to the point any consolation was going to be rejected.

That wasn’t going to happen. Steve wasn’t going to let Thor beat himself up for something he had no control over. Thanos was far too powerful for any of them to kill alone; this had to be a team effort.

“We’ll get through this,” Steve told him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “Once we find Fury, we’ll plan the next of our action.”

Thor shook his head. “Will we?”

“Will we, what?”

“Find Fury. You heard what the Colonel said. Fury’s beeper hasn’t moved since we last saw it. There’s a chance he’s dead too.”

The only reason they were able to find Fury’s beeper was how Rhodey was given permission to have excess on it strictly for emergencies. They detected it was somewhere in the middle of New York last night and planned to meet Fury there as soon as possible.

But from what Rhodey told them earlier, it seemed rather doubtful now.

They had to try. They had to make sure whatever uncertainties that hung between them were wrong.

“We’ll find him.” Steve repeated.

They did find Fury’s beeper. However, it was abandoned in the middle of the cluttered street full of empty cars, their owners long gone, pieces of glass littering the streets from the broken windows. The beeper was letting out a monotonous beeping sound, a single picture of a yellow star glaring up at them in what could only be explained in open contempt.

“He’s gone.” Bruce said quietly.

“What does that mean?” Natasha asked.

There was a hush on the streets that Steve didn’t like. Even back in the days, New York had been bustling with people and vehicles. Seeing it now, where it was disturbingly similar to a ghost town, set something foul at the back of his throat as he watched pigeons clustering on top of a bus.

“I don’t know,” Rhodey answered, staring down at the beeper in his hand. He closed his fingers around it. “We should get going to the Avengers compound and see what this means. Hopefully, it’ll give us clues about something.”

They started to walk back to the helicarrier, and Natasha looked back. “Steve?”

Steve turned towards her, his mouth set in a straight line. “It’s not supposed to be like this, Nat. This is wrong.”

“I know.” She offered her hand, and Steve took it as she let out a calming scent that made him relax for a bit. “But, we’ll figure it out.”

* * *

Steve couldn’t stop himself from watching the scene again and again and again.

He woke up to sweaty sheets and heaving breaths, and he would find himself searching the room for something, some _one_ , he knew wouldn’t be there. But that wouldn’t stop him from spreading his fingers on the cold, empty side of his bed or the way that horrible, horrible feeling of gnawing emptiness that took residence in his heart when there was nothing to reach back to him; his hysterical brain was expecting a warm flesh hand or the cold metal one, and there was none.

It took a moment for him to even out his breathing or for the ringing noises inside his ears to subside. He would get his bearings back, and found that he hated the way the quietness was far too loud; how the soundproof walls blocked out everything from the outside. He was hoping to hear something, anything — the traffic had been the white noise he needed when he was staying in the city or in a motel somewhere when he had been on the run. This was driving him up the wall and he hated it, _hated_ it.

After then, there wasn’t a chance he could sleep again. The training room provided the solace he needed temporarily, and he would work himself until the skin on his knuckles would almost split before he ran into his room again for a shower, just before the rest of the Avengers got up for their morning routine and catch a glimpse of how this was fucking him up.

Steve thought he hid his grief better than anyone, but that seemed to be utter bullshit; because they took one look at him, had sympathy and understanding roll around into one look, and he was able to see his own pain in their faces that he thought he was staring at himself in front of the mirror.

It was unbearable. He hid again in the training room until Natasha had to drag him out to eat.

It had been two weeks. Fury’s beeper did nothing to indicate any help. The star remained where it was on the screen and they decided the best course of action was to leave it to charge with an infinite power supply and under 24-hour surveillance until they get any sort of signal.

They waited.

While they counted the hours, the world was in a state of absolute chaos.

The news were showing clips of people disappearing into thin air and had already concluded that this had to do with how new intruders were fighting Iron Man, Spiderman, and another person Steve was able to recognise as the same Dr. Strange who pulled him out of 1943. Seeing Tony on the screen had Steve thought of his burner he threw in his drawer the first day he arrived at the compound. He resisted himself from getting up and calling him.

 _Surely,_ Steve thought foully, _I’m able to get my head out of my ass this time?_

The answer would be no, to his complete disgust; Steve remained sitting on the couch, the tip of his fingers holding onto the glass of water as the burner remained in the drawer.

He wanted to think that was the way it should be, but the love of his life just died in front of his eyes again along with the rest of his friends. If there was any good time to call Tony Stark and make amends, this would be it.

But Steve didn’t. He was afraid of how things would go between them. He wouldn’t know how to actually respond despite how _he_ was the one who mailed another burner that was similar to his, his number already put in it for Tony to easily call if he decided to. Even if they remained quiet the past couple of years, Steve was sure he’d still be surprised if Tony _did_ call.

But there wasn’t a sound from himself either. After that, Steve was busy chasing Hydra down and running around various countries that he forgot about it along the way. Now that there was time, Steve found it harder than usual to just pick it up and do it.

He looked up when the door slid open, allowing Bruce to walk in with a mug in his hand. “Hey, Steve.”

“Hey,” Steve greeted as Bruce sank down beside him. 

Bruce winced at the TV. “Still the same thing, huh?”

“Yeah.” Steve took a sip of his drink and nodded at the channel. “I heard you were with Tony when that happened.”

“I was.”

“How was he?”

Bruce gave him a side glance before bringing his mug to his lips. “I don't know what happened when the other guy went batshit nuts for the past few years on that dumpster of a planet,” he began, drinking his coffee, before resting it on his lap. “But, Tony told me there’s no Avengers anymore. I asked Nat about it and she said you and Tony were fighting and broke us up like a boyband.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m getting to that. What I wanna know is what happened between you two that made you kick each other’s asses in Siberia.”

Steve sighed, setting his glass on the coffee table. “There was an Accords that needed signing. The Avengers were either under the UN’s eye for the rest of our lives or we retire. Tony wanted us to be in check. I wanted neither.”

“I get that,” Bruce acknowledged. “But, Nat said it turned into something… personal.” 

Steve really didn’t want to talk about this. But it was basically common knowledge between all of them, Bruce might as well know. “Tony found out Bucky killed his parents back then as the Winter Soldier. Understandably, Tony was angry at him for it and tried to kill him, me along with him, because I knew about it and kept quiet.” Steve was really tired. “Bucky wasn’t even in any position to know what he did was wrong. I think he didn’t remember anything about it until we saw the clip Zemo showed us.”

Bruce hummed in understanding, tapping his mug with his finger. “Tony wanted to call you, you know. Almost did, if we didn’t have those dudes kicking _our_ asses in the middle of the street.”

Steve stared at him. “He did?”

“Yeah. I guess it was time.” Bruce tilted his head. “A shitty one though, huh?”

Steve couldn’t agree more. “Yeah.” 

It was that night that the same cycle repeated. Only this time, Steve dreamt Bucky was the one hanging in Thanos’ hand, where he was lifted off the ground as the Titan squeezed his windpipe, Bucky frantic in pulling those fingers away. Steve was on the ground, body heavy as lead when he scrambled uselessly against whatever force holding him down and snarled in fear and frustration, unable to do anything as he watched Thanos hurt his mate.

There was a sickening crack of bones, horrifyingly loud and deafening, and Steve watched the way Thanos dropped Bucky’s limp body to the ground without a second thought, stepping over him as if he was nothing before the Titan disappeared into black clouds of smoke.

Steve roared, but an invisible net prevented him from moving as he thrashed and pushed and did _anything_ in his power to get to Bucky. But he couldn’t, goddammit he _couldn’t_. Steve called for him, screamed for him until his throat scratched raw. But there was no response, not when there was a thin line of blood trailing down his chin as soulless silver eyes stared back at Steve.

Steve jerked out of sleep with his throat threatening to close on him, coughing violently as he pushed himself up to sit on his bed. He gasped, swallowing dryly while rubbing onto his chest with a hand, his heart still ringing in his ears.

“God,” he choked out, pressing into his eyes with the heel of his palms. “ _God._ ”

Bucky died. He died, but it wasn’t _supposed_ to be like that. He died, and Steve only watched while he did _nothing._ He did _nothing_ while his mate was in _pain_ —

Steve had enough. He had _enough_.

He had to leave. He couldn’t stay in the compound and wait for nothing anymore. He had to leave and go to where he didn’t have to sleep in his too quiet room, and have it amplify every single bad thing he was trying to forget.

He pushed himself off the bed and made his way to the kitchen, hardly glancing at the clock while knowing how it was far too late or too early to be walking around. The track down the hallways only made the pulsing in his ears worse and he speeded up his pace. When he arrived at the kitchen, he turned on the coffeemaker to heat last night’s leftovers before grabbing a mug.

“You too?”

He flinched, hand instinctively tightening on the mug before swivelling around to see Natasha sitting on the counter with a family sized Ruffles bag of chips. He hadn’t switched on the light and instead depended on the outside ones to guide him; it was dim and he hadn’t noticed her. He inhaled through his teeth. “Nat, what the hell.”

“Hi,” she simply said as he flicked on the lights. She winced at the glare. “Ow.”

“You’re own fault,” he replied curtly. He was still jumpy, and finding the Black Widow in the dark kitchen eating a bag of chips didn’t help his agitation. “It’s four in the morning. Why are you in the dark?”

“Why are you?” She crunched loudly on a large chip.

“To get myself a drink,” he defended himself, crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned against the edge of the counter. “If I sleep now, I’d puke my guts out.”

“Same.” She shrugged when his eyebrows jumped up. “What I saw in my own head wasn’t pretty too. Eating sour cream helps.”

“Does it?”

“Mm-hm. Not too fast though, or you’ll just throw up.”

“Sounds like something you’ve been through.”

She sniffed delicately, pulling out more chips. “I don’t like wasting.”

The coffeemaker signaled it was done and Steve poured coffee into his mug before adding some sugar. He padded over and joined her at the other side of the kitchen, pulling himself on the counter and letting his feet hang like hers. 

Natasha silently tilted the bag of chips in his way. Steve reached inside and grabbed a handful.

They sat in silence, save for the occasional crunch while the contents of the bag became lesser by the minute. Steve drank his beverage and sighed. “I’m thinking of leaving for a while.”

She shook the bag a bit to let the chips fall to one side. “How long is a while?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can we call you once we find something related to Thanos?”

He took a deep breath. “Of course. I’m not gonna abandon this just yet, Nat, I just… need a break.”

Natasha looked up and let her eyes dig around his face. He stared back at her. “Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere I don’t lose my mind.” Steve pressed his thumb against the handle of the mug. “Waiting here and doing nothing would’ve given me the chance to actually catch up some rest after all the running we did this past couple of years. But every time I close my eyes, I only see _him_ killing everyone I know.”

Natasha rolled the Ruffles bag close and snapped it in place with a rubber band. “Would a farm help?”

“A farm?”

“I happen to know one near enough. It’s been abandoned for months now, so there are some things that need refurbishing. But otherwise, it’s decent.”

A farm sounded like something he could go through. Steve lived in the city most of his life, but he rather liked how secluded a farm could be when Clint first introduced them all to his place. The land would be big, and no one would be in near radius to disturb Steve.

Natasha said it needed to be refurbished but he wouldn’t mind; it would be a project for him to tackle on. If he worked hard and long enough, he’d be so tired he’d just crash in the night. Hopefully, that would be enough to put the nightmares at bay.

“That sounds great actually,” he murmured, already thinking of the possibilities. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She sucked on her fingers to get rid of the salt. “When do you leave?”

“As soon as I can. Hopefully, sooner.”

“I’d come visit,” she suggested, nodding her head as she made her decision. “Bring more junk food and we’ll stuff ourselves nuts in front of the TV and maybe throw popcorn at it when Fox Channel is on.”

He chuckled. “Sure. The house has a spare bedroom, right?”

“It has two, I think,” she mused, wiping her hand on her pink flannel pants. “And you’ll need a pick up truck. Make it more rustic.”

“Maybe I will,” he said thoughtfully, finishing the rest of his coffee. He peeked at the clock on the wall. “It’s still too early to go anywhere. And I’m not in the mood to go back to bed.”

Natasha hummed. “Wanna watch TV and maybe throw popcorn at stupid newscasters?”

Steve smirked. “I’ll get the popcorn.”

* * *

When Steve first saw the farm, he didn’t expect the land that came with it to stretch so far.

If he was going to compare it to Clint’s, he’d say this one was a bit bigger. It had a barn along with it, and as Steve parked his secondhand pickup truck in front of the house, he saw how there were a couple of chicken coops beside it as well. There was a greenhouse somewhere ten feet from the barn, the glass windows filthy with nothing occupying the inside. He’d be staying in a double story farmhouse with a wrap-around porch; what once used to be white walls had darkened through the years, and the landing looked like it’d seen better days.

Steve leaned into his seat, hands sliding to the bottom part of the steering wheel as he took it all in.

He was here because he needed something new, something to make him move around. Staying still hadn’t been an option, so driving for five hours and finding himself in this place was the only way for him to make himself busy.

He opened the door and got out. The grass was all brown and dry when they crinkled underneath his boots, and Steve made a reminder to buy some sprinkles. When he looked up to the house, he realised he needed buckets of paint too.

He needed a list. Reaching back into the truck, he pulled down the compartment glove and took out his old small notebook before flipping it open to a new page. He jotted down what he needed, closing the car door to walk up the small flight of stairs of the house.

The screen door and front door opened underneath his hand, and the first thing he saw was an old fireplace left to collect dust in what he assumed would be the living room. It was empty, except for the single broom left on the floor at the corner of the room. He let his eyes sweep through the area and added ‘sofa’, ‘coffee table’, ‘lamps’, ‘small bookshelf (?)’, and ‘carpet (?)’ to the list.

A door on his left caught his eye. He walked there and found himself staring at a toilet bowl, and realised it was a small bathroom that had a sink and a shower head as well. Steve had a feeling this was probably used for guests.

Steve walked deeper into the house and found himself in the kitchen — the space of it was big, and it had a blue flame stove oven and cabinets that still looked fine. There were open shelving and plate rails on the walls that were nailed right above the sink and dishwasher. An island was perched right in the middle of the kitchen with two stools at one side, with more drawers below it.

There wasn’t a fridge though, Steve realised as he stared at a black outline that looked suspiciously rectangle-like on the wall. He added that to his notebook along with food and drinks, as well as plates and cutleries after he checked through the cabinets and drawers.

He climbed up to the stairs and was faced with four doors, three of them belonged to bedrooms while the one in the middle was the bathroom. All the bedrooms had bed frames and wardrobes of their own, making things easier for Steve to only buy some mattresses and bed sheets. 

Once he put those in his book, he went back down and walked outside to check out the barn. As expected, it was empty except for old hay littered in the stalls and the hooks where the equipment should be remained empty. _At least the roof’s still intact_ , he thought as he looked up. And the doors still worked too, so that was a relief.

The greenhouse needed sweeping too when the floor was littered with twigs and dried leaves. There were long tables and empty pots that were left on them, and the electric fans were coated with dust. The roof openings were left open, and one of them was broken.

Whatever was needed made it to the list and as well as several other things for him to clean the house, barn, greenhouse, and chicken coop.

It occupied four pages of his book. Flipping through it now, he underlined the essentials and decided he’d leave the rest for tomorrow. 

Then, he went to work.

Driving the truck to the nearby town took him fifteen minutes, twelve if he was pushing it, and what greeted him made something sink in his chest.

It was like a ghost town. Shops were opened, but there weren’t many people walking around like he assumed they would. Some were carrying bags of groceries in their hands as they walked down the sidelines, as if they were readying themselves against an inevitable that was going to happen. Some were still hanging around in cafes and restaurants he just passed by, but it was barely filled with people, considering it was lunchtime already.

He stopped at the nearest supermarket and parked his truck. After pulling down his cap and pulling onto his jacket, Steve took a breath, and got out.

He dumped all the food and cleaning appliances into his trolley before bringing them to one of the empty counters. The cashier beeped his stuff up as she gave him a welcoming smile. “Hello. You’re new here, huh?”

“That obvious?” He asked with a chuckle, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket.

“Whatever you’re buying kinda gave it away,” she confessed, nodding at the mop and cleaning detergent. “Unless you just made a hugeass mess of your house. But I’ve never seen you before, so I guess that’s not it.”

“Perspective,” Steve complimented, and she blushed.

“Sorry, it’s just— it’s been a while since anyone new came along. And after some people mysteriously disappeared, it’s kinda hard not to miss when you have like, five thousand people in a town.”

Steve was hoping that wouldn’t be the case. At least, she didn’t recognise him as Captain America. “It’s okay. And yeah, I just moved in today, actually.”

“That’s cool. Where are you staying?”

Steve only smiled, and the girl —Clara, her name tag said— blushed again, bagging the last of his stuff. “Right, sorry. I’m being nosy again. Sorry. Is it permanent though?”

“For the time being.” An idea came up then. “Do you know any good food places?”

“There’s a diner down the street, Ralph’s Romeo, a five minute drive from here. They’ve got some amazing burgers and coffee. The breakfast sets and milkshakes are good too. There’s the Pizza Pizzazz. Try the pepperoni and mushroom pizza, by the way. Also, there’s Big Boy Sushi. This Thai restaurant called Beyond Thai and their Tom Yum is excellent. There’s also Italian, Chinese, and even Pakistan food.”

“That’s a lot of variety for a small town.”

“We have diversity on our side, thank god. I don’t think I can take burgers or pea casserole or whatever else remotely similar. That’ll be $205.80.” 

She accepted his cash.

There were four huge paper bags he needed to carry and he scooped them all up in his arms. Clara the Cashier looked on in alarm, passing the mop into his hand when he gestured for it with a waggle of his fingers. 

“You sure you don’t need help with that?” She asked in concern.

Steve shook his head, already making his way towards the door. “I’m fine. But, thanks for the offer.”

“Sure,” she replied doubtfully before the door closed behind him.

Once he loaded them into the tractor, he went to Ralph’s Romeo and brought himself two sets of burgers and a chocolate milkshake. He sat at the last booth, cap down, and brought out his notebook to look for the next thing. 

“Mattress,” he muttered, tapping on the word. “And a bedsheet. Definitely a fridge.”

That was his next mission. After that, he would go back to the house.

The food arrived, and Steve didn’t realise he was starving until he took a bite of the burger. Clara was right; the burgers were to die for. The patty was juicy and the lettuce and tomato fresh. Steve was inhaling the first one before he was already reaching for the second. The milkshake was good too.

He finished off his drink and burger. His fries were packed into a doggy bag before he left the place with a satisfied stomach, and went to look around for a department store. Once he found one, he bought himself a fridge, a Roomba, and a king sized mattress that came with a free fitted bed sheet set for the master bedroom; the others can wait. However, the fridge was going to be sent to the house tomorrow morning.

The moment he got back, he started putting everything into the kitchen. He took out his phone and went through his playlist, before tapping on shuffle and setting it on the counter. Then, he went to the living room and assembled the Roomba.

“Go, noble steed,” he announced, watching it whirl to life before it zoomed around with a little chirp. He grinned. “Nat would kill for a video.”

He did the wiping, the sweeping, the mopping; he even scrubbed the clawed bathtub in the bathroom when there were suspicious looking dark grey goop he wrinkled his nose at. He sprayed air freshener into the wardrobes. He kept the food in the cabinets. He disinfected the whole house. 

Several hours later as he stood in the middle of the now clean living room, he felt rather proud at what he achieved.

He took pictures and sent them to Natasha, who immediately replied with several _pings!_ of his phone.

Nat 🕷: **_Looks good!!_ **

Nat 🕷: **_👍🏼👍🏼_ **

Nat 🕷: **_And cute roomba, you gotta name it_ **

You: **_Gimme ideas_ **

You: **_The shittiest ones you know_ **

You: **_Ones where it’ll kick my ass in the next life_ **

Nat 🕷: **_Optimus prime_ **

Nat: 🕷: **_Wait no_ **

Nat 🕷: **_Debby_ **

You: **_How is Debby shitty_ **

You: **_Oh wait I can see it_ **

You: **_The next life probably has Debby demanding the manager from me_ **

Nat 🕷: **_Name it Deborah to spice it up_ **

Steve took a video of Debby bumping into the doorframe before it turned and rolled to the middle of the clearing. He sent it to Nat and typed, **_Debby says hi 👋🏼_ **

Nat 🕷: 😍😍😘😘

Nat 🕷: **_Oh shit_ **

Nat 🕷: **_Steve_ **

Nat 🕷: **_Deboroomba_ **

You: **_Nat you’re a goddamn genius_ **

Nat 🕷: **_I fucking know_ **

Steve laughed. When he glanced out of the window, it was already dusk. Dark purples and pinks occupied the skies, and he hadn’t realised how dark it had gotten until he looked around him.

When he switched the lights on, he blinked at how painfully empty his living room was. At least, the wooden floors shone after he mopped everything up while the corner of the walls weren’t occupied by cobwebs.

He decided his next project would be buying furniture right after the delivery people dropped off his fridge.

Right then, he fixed himself a sandwich and sat on one of the stools by the island, the sound of Usher droning out from his phone. Steve took a big bite and sighed at how everything tasted good after a long day of work.

He had to learn to cook, though. He couldn’t cook for shit and mostly depended on someone else that he usually helped with the dishes once they were all done. Or he’d order take out. Or the only thing he’d done was making his Ma’s chicken soup since he was always so sick back then. He wasn’t always going to depend on sandwiches and other places now— he’d have to get himself a cookbook or watch YouTube to get in the groove.

Once he was putting everything away, he went to the bathroom upstairs and turned the knob to the shower. He stripped off his clothes, and then he stepped into the bathtub and let warm water rain onto his head. 

He closed his eyes, scrubbing away the grime and dirt from his body as the water helped soothe out the aches from that resonated deep in his muscles.

He could get used to this.

* * *

A month passed, and Steve slowly worked on the house until it resembled something of a home. At one point, the light bulb of the porch blew the first time he flicked it on, resulting a blackout on the whole house. He had to call an electrician for that. 

He cleaned the barn, threw all the old hay and everything else that was dumped inside it. He did the same thing on the greenhouse, and he was glad he found the tall ladder in the barn as he wiped the glazers and electric fan clean. The chicken coop was next. Then, he fixed the landing, painted over the yellow and black spots on the walls of the house, and bought more mattresses and bed sheets for the guest bedrooms. He even bought sprinklers and hosed on his sad brown grass.

He even had books now, where they go into the small shelf he managed to get for half a price, which was pretty damn cheap. There may be an unused sketchbook or two, along with a pack of charcoal and colour pencils.

But, he wasn’t going to touch that just yet.

Other than that, it was great. Every night, without fail, he’d crash face first into bed. Every night, without fail, he’d dream nothing and that was exactly what he wanted.

Something deep inside him hoped it would last. The peace that came in the ritual he set himself with had the rattling inside his bones settling into something quieter, and he could hear the world better then. He wouldn’t be forced to hear himself and all the noises he didn’t want with him.

But, whatever was written in the stars came to knock down his fantasies, because Steve was restocking his food when his phone rang from the counter. He took a peek and froze at an unknown number.

He kept the last cup of yoghurt in the fridge and answered his phone. “Hello?”

“Steve,” Bruce greeted him, but there was a sense of urgency in his tone that made Steve straighten his back. “Steve, we found something.”

What could only be explained as a metaphorical truck then hit his face. His shoulders raised to his ears. “What did you find?” 

“Fury’s beeper? It stopped beeping. We thought it was dead at first, but something else came along. We need you here _now_.”

Steve stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. “What is it?”

“There’s this woman, Carol Danvers. Or, uh, professionally, Captain Marvel. She’s Fury’s emergency contact and she saw that he called her. Now, she’s back on Earth.”

Steve was pulling open the wardrobe doors when he stopped. “Back on Earth?” He repeated slowly. “Where was she in the first place?”

“Well,” Bruce gave a little laugh. “She’s from space.”

“What? Bruce—“

“I know it sounds crazy but Steve, she can help. And Rocket found where Thanos is.”

Steve pulled out his duffel bag. “The racoon found where he is? And where is he?”

“You have to come here and we’ll talk about it.” Bruce urged.

Steve then took out his Wakandian shield. “I’m on my way.”

* * *

**Avengers Compound, 2023**

They won.

God, they—

They _won._

Steve took a deep breath, but that hurt too much because he was sure a few of his ribs were broken. He let his fingers flitter above them gently before letting out a hiss. Definitely broken. Iron rested on his tongue from how much beating he got, and his arm was on fire, the straps of his shield —the bastard of the round frisbee now broken— did nothing to stop the deep cut from oozing with blood even after he tightened them.

But, that didn’t matter. Not when he looked around and saw how the earth had been uprooted underneath the Avengers compound and destroyed the place. Not even when he was standing in the middle of the mess. Not even when everyone —his friends, his family, _everyone_ — were alive and they were smiling and laughing in tears as they held one another.

Tony was alive. The flesh on his arm became gnarled, the damage stretching up the side of his neck, but he was _alive_. He held the gauntlet like the fucking fool he was and _survived,_ and Steve was _relieved_. Tony Stark will always remain the most stubborn asshole and this was coming from Steve himself, who on many occasions had been called _a fucking idiot of a man_ , and that was a big thing.

Pepper was beside Tony, Rhodey and Spiderman not far as they tried to distract him from his pain, saying how help was near. Help was near and he had to stay awake for a little longer. Tony was nodding minutely, murmuring something that had Pepper sobbing out a laugh.

God, Steve thought again. They _won_.

A short burst of chuckle wheezed out of him. Before he knew it, he felt himself sinking to the ground, and he didn’t realise he closed his eyes when he snapped them open again at the grip of hands catching his weight.

“Whoa there,” a soft voice murmured into his ear. Steve smelled him before he saw him, and he choked out a gasp, digging his fingers into those arms that were wrapped around him. “Easy does it, Stevie.”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve choked out, wrenching himself back to have a look at him himself because if this was real—

Bucky had a teary grin stretched wide on his face and for the love of god, he was beautiful. He was _beautiful,_ and he was _here_ , and Steve felt his heart expand until it was on the verge of exploding. _He’s alive,_ he thought hysterically, still holding onto him; still _touching_ him. _He’s alive. You’re here, you’re here—_

“You’re here,” Steve whispered, causing Bucky to let out a watery laugh.

“Yeah, I’m here.” He palmed Steve’s cheek, who turned towards it like a sunflower to the sun, seeking his touch after five agonising years of endless grief. “Why the hell did you shave off your beard, huh? I liked that look better.”

_He’s here._

Steve couldn’t help but moan out painfully as he tightened his hold on Bucky, who had his hands all over him the moment Steve made that noise. Bucky pulled off the helmet and brushed back his hair; Bucky touched his face and ran his fingers down his cheek and that was enough to assure Steve that he really was there, kneeling beside him from where he was rendered utterly useless from the gratification of it all. His scent was in his nose and Steve inhaled it all deeply.

_He’s here, he’s here, he’s here—_

“Bucky,” he let out gutturally. The heart wrenching keen he got in response almost had Steve lose his mind. Steve pulled him tighter to his chest and Bucky was holding onto him as desperately as he was. “God, Bucky, I thought I lost you again— I thought you were—“

“ _Steve,”_ Bucky gasped into his ear, clawing onto his back. “I couldn’t— I tried to reach for you but I couldn’t—“

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered harshly, feeling the way tears were falling down his filthy cheeks. “I should’ve caught you, I should’ve been faster and get you—“

“Steve, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry.”

When Bucky leaned back, Steve almost refused to let go, but Bucky took his hands in his, holding onto them so tightly. Steve realised he was crying too, face wet and eyes red. There was open bafflement in the way he parted his lips — as if he couldn’t believe this was happening, that this was _real_.

Steve probably looked like a wreck, with all the tears and soot and blood on his face after every blow he received from Thanos and his minions. But, they were gone now, and they could never hurt the people Steve loved again.

Bucky wiped the stained tracks away with his thumbs, and _god_ , he was so beautiful. He had Steve’s heart in the cage of his fingers and Steve wouldn’t have it in any other way.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky rasped out, silver eyes bright and glistening and so ardently joyful that Steve couldn’t— he _couldn’t—_

He gasped out, trembling from this, from the enormity of it all, before Bucky pulled him close again until their foreheads were pressed firmly together; Bucky still had his face between his hands and Steve held onto his wrists and he was afraid this wasn’t real, that everything was only a cruel joke.

Steve was still trying to get a hold of himself and he knew people were watching; he knew and he didn’t care when he buried his face into Bucky’s neck.

The blood in his veins were alight and Steve felt like he was going to launch himself out soon; he was restless, nothing sat well even with Bucky’s scent was pushed under his nose, his touches soft when his hands console him on his back. Steve let out a distressing groan, and lifted his head to crush his lips onto his.

Bucky heaved in a staggering breath before he demanded his attention in that kiss alone, clutching onto his shoulders when Steve had his arms holding vehemently around him. Never wanting to let go. Never again.

Steve took and took his filling after the years of misery he went through. This was Bucky, the love of his life, in his arms again and Steve was going to fucking relish it all he wanted.

“I love you,” he murmured against his mouth. Bucky whimpered, clinging onto him as much as he was. Steve wouldn’t have it any other way. “I love you, I love you.”

* * *

**Steve and Bucky’s farm, 2023**

  
It was the sun that woke him up.

Steve was pretty sure he closed the curtains before they went to bed that night. He pried an eyelid open before immediately slamming it close again when the sharp blare of morning blinded him. A groan rumbled out of his throat as he turned away, pulling the blanket above his head as he buried his face into the empty space beside him.

The sheets were cold, which meant Bucky had left the bed over half an hour ago. Steve huffed, wanting to cuddle with him when he was so unbelievably comfortable in their bed —a pat on the back for choosing the right mattress, if he said so himself— and sleep for another minute or two.

But then, his nose caught onto something delicious from the open crack of the door. Steve briefly lifted his head to glare at it before dropping it again, a groan escaping his lips.

Whatever it was Bucky was making, it was so damn good that both of them _knew_ Steve couldn’t resist. He was baking, Steve summarised when he gave a sniff. He was a sucker for Bucky’s pastries too, and there was a chance that this was used to lure Steve out of bed and make him walk to the kitchen.

And it damn well worked.

Steve let out a sigh as he begrudgingly pushed himself out of bed, stretching his arms above his head as he made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

Once he was done, he went down and greeted his mate at the kitchen, who was standing in front of the stove and frying some eggs. Bucky caught his gaze and smirked. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

“Since when did you wake up so early?” Steve yawned, walking deeper into the kitchen to plant a kiss onto Bucky’s cheek before wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. Steve hooked his chin onto his shoulder before his eyes drifted to the plate of sausages and a bowl of sautéed mushrooms. “That looks good, by the way.”

“Since you slept in today,” Bucky replied to his first question. Steve snorted, rubbing his face against his shoulder. “And thank you. We eat like buncha monsters anyway, so I made a lot of these. Oh, there’s something in the oven too.”

Steve perked up at that, curiously glancing at it. “What is it?”

Bucky shrugged. “Why don’t you find out?”

Steve stooped down until he found himself squatting near Bucky’s feet. He squinted into the tinted glass of the oven. “You’re making buns? Because all I see is a large bun in the oven.”

Steve could hear Bucky sliding the eggs into the plate, before he was serving all the food on the island. “Mm-hm.”

“Oh, so we’re going to eat the bun for breakfast, right?” Steve turned around to face him. “I think it’s done anyway, should I…?”

He faltered when he saw Bucky standing there, leaning against the island with his hands holding onto the edges and this amused smile on his face.

Steve stood up slowly, suspicious. “What? What did I do? You only smile like that when I did something stupid.”

“Steve,” Bucky began patiently. “There’s a bun in the oven.”

“Yeah, I _see_ that.” Steve gestured towards it with a flap of his hand, frowning. “I still don’t understand why—“

“Steve,” Bucky cut him off, and he was obviously holding onto his laughter this time, the smile wide and open. Instead, he wiped a hand down his cheek. “Okay. Lemme rephrase this a bit differently.” He cleared his throat. “Steve. You put the bun in the oven.”

“What? You’re the one—“

“ _Steve,”_ Bucky was really laughing now, shaking his head in disbelief. “ _You_ put the bun in the oven.”

Steve stared dumbfoundedly at him for a couple of seconds, his brain trying to figure out what in fresh hell was Bucky talking about.

Before something loud clicked against his skull.

“Fucking hell.” Steve said breathlessly, eyes wide.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Steve.”

“It’s true?” Steve demanded as he covered the floor in a second to stand in front of Bucky, grabbing his hands in his. “What you’re saying is true?”

Bucky tilted his chin. “And what am I saying?”

“That— that you’re pregnant,” Steve gusted out, head reeling. “That the Asgardian flavoured wine induced monkey sex we did in the living room was fucking spot on.”

“Bullseye, sweetheart.” Bucky laughed again, and Steve gathered him in his arms and hugged him tight.

“Oh my god,” Steve let out, still unable to believe that this was real, that they were going to have a baby, that they were going to have _their_ baby. “Jesus Christ. I think I’m going to cry.”

Bucky patted his hip, holding onto him as well with his other arm. “Just let it out. But, I’m gonna make fun of you for the rest of our lives.”

“I don’t care,” Steve stated firmly, leaning back to look at him with this ridiculously huge grin on his face that he thought it was gonna break him into two. “Because we’re gonna have a baby together and ain’t that the sweetest thing I’ve gotten in my life.”

Bucky’s eyes softened at those words, hand lifting up to trace the edge of his jaw, fingers scrapping against his beard. “You’re such a sap.”

“I’m your sap.” Steve claimed with a burst of laughter, happiness a warm thing in his chest because wasn’t what he said was true? They belonged to each other.

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Bucky vowed, snaking his arms around his shoulders when Steve let his forehead rest on his. “I love you, and I love how we’re going to start a family together.”

“I love you, too,” Steve said softly. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Bucky let out a breath of chuckles. “I know you. The house is too big for just the both of us, anyway.”

“Too quiet.” Steve planted a kiss on his lips. “That’s gonna change.”

Bucky hummed contentedly. “Get ready for diapers and late night feeding, buddy.”

That was just the thing, wasn’t it? Steve was ready. He was ready to start a family with Bucky a long time ago and the fact he was finally getting what he most dreamed of right then, right now?

They deserved this. It was time.

Steve smiled. “I don’t have to anymore.”


End file.
